Death Waits In the Wings
by Sandilynn Petersen
Summary: Hired to save a community theater in East Texas owned by Murdock's old high school English teacher, the team finds themselves dealing with ghosts, both real and imagined, from their team mate's past. Can the show go on with Murdock in a lead role? Now (finally!) complete!
1. Chapter 1 Heading Home

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

AN: I'm sorry ahead of time if the "darker" side of Murdock comes out in my writing so much. He's a complex character and I am _trying_ to lighten my treatment of him up a bit. This story won't be light since it deals with my version of the sketchy details of his childhood and why so little is said about it.

Chapter 1 Heading Home

As the black van traversed the southeastern Gulf Coast region of Texas, B. A. scowled back at the only passenger awake enough to carry on a conversation. That person was uncharacteristically quiet. He had been ever since the bejeweled Sergeant stopped to refuel at a gas station on the western outskirts of Houston.

The silence was beginning to annoy B. A.

Since that pre-dawn morning in Las Cruces, New Mexico, when they left the motel room, Murdock's playful outbursts had become less and less frequent.

Even Hannibal noticed. About two hours before they hit Houston, the Colonel tried to get the Captain to talk about his grandparents, about his childhood, about the area they would be spending the next two weeks. The answers Murdock gave were sketchy at best. Sometimes they were accompanied by a sad lopsided smile or a melancholy gaze so troubled the Colonel dropped the question rather than probe further.

Even the _method_ they were using to travel to their latest mission felt all wrong to the burly black man. Back in Los Angeles he had been careful not to eat or drink anything Face, Hannibal or Murdock offered him. He watched his back to make sure he was not jabbed by any syringe full of anesthetic.

When Hannibal took Murdock aside for a private talk, B. A. was positive they were discussing the aircraft Face was certain to have scammed or the flight pattern to their destination.

The conversation between the two men didn't feel right either. The pilot seemed overly agitated, raising his voice more than once and vehemently shaking his head "no" several times.

Hannibal walked up to B. A., Murdock watching him intensely as he went. The Colonel was not happy. The muscles along his jaw twitched in frustration as he frowned at the Sergeant. "We're going to have to take the van and the Corvette. Murdock refuses to fly."

B. A. almost guffawed with giddy delight over that until Hannibal turned his chilling blue eyes on him in warning. "This may make us late for the first auditions our client has set up. I don't need to tell you that it's important we make it to the Nederland Community Playhouse by Friday evening. That gives us seventy-two hours to travel from here to the far southeastern corner of Texas."

"Yeah, but least we do it wit' our feet on t' ground 'n' our heads outta t' clouds." B. A. mumbled, still amazed at his good fortune that Murdock had relinquished the opportunity to fly them to their destination.

"You'd better hope both of the vehicles sprout wings because our client is expecting us and I don't intend to be late" was Hannibal's last remark on the subject.

B. A. roused himself from the memory to glance in the rear-view mirror. Murdock was no longer seated but had quietly moved to the space between the two front seats. Kneeling, he stared past a sleeping Hannibal and out his window at the passing countryside. He didn't seem to notice B. A.'s curious sideways glances.

_Fool's too quiet. Somethin' eatin' 'im bad._

"You be glad to be visitin' home?" The Sergeant said the first thing he could think of that might get the crazy man to talking again.

Murdock startled as if suddenly faced by a vicious snarling Rottweiler. His brown eyes, so distant and meditative moments before, cleared and his brow furrowed. "Wh . . . what? I . . . I wasn't listenin'."

"I said, you glad to be visitin' home?"

The thoughtful expression appeared again on the pilot's face. "Don't know." His gaze returned to the passing mile markers and vehicles on US-90.

"Ain't you tired? Kept us 'wake las' night wit' your nightmares." B. A. shuddered slightly at the memory. "Surprised Face ain't hit the ditch yet wit' the 'Vette, tired as _he_ mus' be."

He could tell by the spiderwebs of red so noticeable in the whites of the Captain's eyes that he was as exhausted as the rest of them. Murdock sighed and bowed his head. "Yeah, 'bout that. Didn't mean to keep folks awake. Sorry."

None of them were aware of the first nightmare Murdock had back in the Las Cruces motel room. When Face woke at one in the morning, the bed beside him was empty. The top blanket lay on the floor as if it had been abandoned halfway to the open door.

Not fully awake himself, he followed the terror-filled groans which had roused him from sleep. He found the pilot sitting outside on the cement curbstone, curled up and shivering, his back to the front bumper of the van. Murdock did not fully wake up even when B. A. carried him like an oversized rag doll back to the motel room bed.

While Hannibal and B. A. slept for two more hours, Face volunteered to stay awake to avoid a repeat of the episode.

When it was B. A.'s turn to watch, what he witnessed turned his heart cold. The fool muttered in his sleep, tossing and turning, one minute shielding his face with his forearms, the next clutching his belly with an intense phantom pain. At one point, Murdock gripped Bogey Bear, the mascot he chose to carry on this trip, so tightly B. A. was sure the bear's button eyes would pop off.

It didn't _seem_ like another nightmare about Viet Nam. Those were chilling enough. This seemed worse and rooted deeper in the past.

B. A.'s curiosity got the better of him and he asked the one thing all of them scrupulously avoided in their conversations.

"Where _were_ you in those dreams? Never seen you sleepwalk like that 'fore." As soon as he said it, B. A. realized he might not _want_ to know the answer. Even more than that, he couldn't be sure what Murdock's reaction would be if he had to _relive _the nightmare just to satisfy B. A.'s intrusive queries.

"Where was I? Home. When _you_ go home to Chicago, you go back to Momma. Know what I go back to?" The pilot's voice was almost a whisper. Before the black man could answer, Murdock closed his eyes and murmured, "Ghosts. Ghosts from my past."

Then he maneuvered his way back to his seat to avoid any further questions. He didn't speak again until he directed B. A. to turn onto Texas state highway 326. That would lead them to Grayburg Road and their lodging for the next four weeks.


	2. Chapter 2 Family Farm

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

AN: There is a Grayburg Road near Sour Lake and west of Beaumont, Texas. The old homestead is fictitious as is the Nederland Community Playhouse. The city of Nederland does exist. Quotes are from William Shakespeare's _Henry IV, Part I._

Chapter 2 Family Farm

B. A. was close to falling asleep at the wheel when Murdock muttered almost in his ear, "Turn in the next driveway on your right."

They had been on the road for close to fourteen hours straight. When he felt that the Sergeant would not ask any more questions, the pilot had returned to kneel between the front seats.

It unnerved B. A., the way Murdock pensively stared at the countryside flowing by. He was glad they could finally stop. Maybe the fool would be more like himself now that they arrived at their destination.

The driveway was little more than two long ruts overgrown with weeds. At the end of the drive sat a two story wood farmhouse with a wrap around veranda. The structure's weathered siding, once painted white, displayed patches of chipping flakes. Most of the windows were boarded up. Vandals had not visited the property as remote as it was. To the right of the farmhouse was a barn, its painted surfaces in the same condition as that of the house. Beside the barn was a large corral. Some of its timbers had fallen to the ground. Loblolly pines and live oaks, casting long shadows in the late afternoon sun, encroached upon what was once pasture.

"Looks like a pretty nice place to have grown up," Face remarked as he stretched and yawned. Murdock shot him a grim look which remained unnoticed by the conman.

Hannibal peered out at their surroundings. "Better get our bags and equipment inside and pull the boards from a few of the back windows before it's too dark to see. Ready to give us the grand tour, Captain?"

Murdock nodded, staring at the frame structure with a somber expression. Without a word he moved past Face and opened the van door, climbing out into the weedy undergrowth beside the vehicle.

Hannibal exited the van next and, stepping toward the pilot, put one gloved hand on the younger man's shoulder. "We don't have to stay here if it isn't comfortable for you, you know."

A weak laugh escaped Murdock's lips and he gave the Colonel an uncertain smile. "Course it's comfortable for me. It's my grandparent's ol' place, ain't it? Good to see it's still standin' after all this time. Neighbors down the road kept a good eye out for it."

Face paused beside them and gazed at the house. Glancing at his best friend, he placed his hand gently on Murdock's other shoulder. They stood there for a few moments, Hannibal and Face on either side, providing the pilot support for whatever had been tormenting him since before they left L. A.

"Wish I could have grown up on a farm like this," Face murmured. "I can see why you kept up the property tax payments on it." The Captain nodded, still looking at the house, and absentmindedly swiped his hand across his mouth.

"It's a good remote location. Nearest neighbors look to be about two miles either direction. You wrote them to let them know you were coming, right? Just the same, we'll keep the front of the house as it is right now and put the van and the Corvette in the barn if there's room for them. Let's get moving, men." Hannibal dropped his hand and moved to the back of the van.

"Are you really going to be okay with us staying here?" Face stepped in front of Murdock to look him in the eyes.

"Like I tol' Hannibal. Why shouldn't I be?" Face noticed the pilot's slight grimace as he turned away and accepted two of the duffel bags from the Colonel. Without another glance at any of his three companions, Murdock trudged toward the veranda.

Fishing a key out of the pocket of his bomber jacket, he fumbled at the locked front door for a few seconds before unlocking it and entering the house.

Face and Hannibal exchanged concerned looks. B. A. moved past them with two more bags of equipment, pausing when he saw their worry. "I'm worried 'bout the fool, too, man. Ain't natural, him not fillin' my ears wit' jibber-jabber on the way here. 'N' those nightmares las' night. He ain't been that bad for a long time."

"All we can do is to be here for him if something's wrong." Hannibal shouldered his duffel bag and led the way to the house.

An hour later after removing the boards from the rear windows of the house and installing their belongings in the three upstairs rooms, Murdock lit one of the oil lamps stored in the kitchen cupboards. The four men drew up chairs around the kitchen table to eat a belated meal prepared over a portable propane cook stove.

"Not the best of cookin', guys. If there'd been gas in the tank out back, I woulda been able to treat y'all to a gourmet meal." The pilot paused, a bittersweet smile touching his lips. "Course, that ol' cook stove made magic when Gramma was at the controls. I'm an amateur burger flipper compared to her."

For a few seconds his gaze settled on the white Wedgewood gas stove. His voice sounded distant when he spoke again. "Can almost picture her standin' there, wooden spoon in her hand, offerin' me the first taste of whatever she was cookin' up."

"She must have been quite a lady, Murdock." Face's voice was gentle as he glanced at the stove. "Wish I had those kind of good memories." He gave his friend a wistful smile and patted him on the back.

B. A. cleared his throat, embarrassed by the sentiments the two men had expressed. "So what's the plan, Colonel?"

"Tomorrow night we visit our client Mrs. Bartleman at the Nederland Community Playhouse. The three of us can't actually be on stage as performers but we can be stagehands. Publicity could draw Decker here." Hannibal turned his gaze on Murdock. "Have you been memorizing your lines?"

"No problemo, Colonel. Got most of 'em down pat." The Captain stood, struck a dramatic pose and quoted, "'Why, it cannot choose but be a noble plot! And then the power of Scotland, and of York, To join with Mortimer, ha?' Act one, scene three." And he grinned at each of them.

B. A. wrinkled his nose. "So the crazyman gotta recite jibber-jabber to us t' entire four weeks? Don' think I'm gonna like this, Hannibal."

The Colonel lit his after dinner cigar and smiled. "Well, it _is_ Shakespeare and it _is_ _Henry IV_ they're doing. And Murdock _is_ being auditioned for the role of Hotspur. The client guarantees he'll get it, too, but he needs to put on a good performance."

Murdock's broad grin was genuine as he wrapped one arm around the black man's shoulders. "You'd make a perfect Falstaff. But Falstaff doesn't share the stage with Hotspur 'til act five. 'N' then you'd get to carry me like a sack of taters and dump me on the ground."

"Hannibal!" B. A. glared at the Colonel who shrugged and smiled. The black man stood, flexing his biceps. "Maybe I should show you how far Falstaff'd toss you if I _was_ him, fool."


	3. Chapter 3 Rehearsing the Lines

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

AN: Hotspur is the surname which was given to Henry Percy, son of the Earl of Northumberland. He was one of the leaders of a rebellion against the rule of Henry IV.

Chapter 3 Rehearsing the Lines

When Face woke the next morning and came downstairs, B. A. and Hannibal were already having breakfast. Murdock was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's our host?" The Lieutenant strolled over and helped himself to a small cluster of grapes from the fruit bowl in the center of the table.

"Gone out joggin'. Had to go lookin' for 'im this mornin'. Didn' you hear him get outta bed 'n' leave the room?" B. A. scowled at a spoonful of cereal before putting it in his mouth.

Face noted the coffee pot brewing on the propane stove and the breakfast items which had been set out on the kitchen counter for their use. Two buckets of water had been brought in from outside. "I heard him get down from the top bunk but I thought he was going to the bathroom. So where did you find him? He didn't go sleepwalking again, did he?"

B. A. gave a slight grimace as Hannibal explained. "Afraid so, Lieutenant. Early this morning, we located him curled up under a workbench in the basement."

"Like he'd been hidin' there most t' night," the Sergeant added.

Hannibal frowned at Face. "I know you two stayed up talking. Did he say anything we should know about?"

"I can't think of anything he said that was worrying him. I asked him about his grandparents and what it was like growing up on a farm like this but he managed to switch the focus off his childhood and onto mine. Eventually he asked me to help him rehearse act four, scene one, with him. He said he was having trouble remembering some of the lines." Face rummaged through the cupboard and found a cup. He ripped a paper towel sheet from the roll on the counter and carefully wiped the dust from the inside of the cup before pouring coffee from the pot.

"And was he?" Hannibal took a sip from the coffee cup in front of him.

"Not that I could tell. I read from the script the client sent and it sounded like he had it down perfectly even to the vocal inflections and gestures. I can't get over the last line he said before we turned off the oil lamp and went to sleep." The Lieutenant shuddered slightly.

"Which was?"

"'Doomsday is near, die all, die merrily.'"

The front door opened and the men at the table automatically put their hands on the guns in their shoulder holsters. Not until Murdock entered the kitchen, sweaty and panting, did any of them relax.

"Nice run, Captain?" Hannibal appraised the pilot's mood as he leaned against the kitchen door frame and caught his breath.

"Forgot how quiet it is 'round here. Sure beats the smog 'n' noise of L. A. Useta run all the time. Did I ever tell ya'll I tried out for the high school track team once?" He wandered over to the table and grabbed a banana from the bowl.

"And did you make it?" Face prompted. Hannibal internally applauded his Lieutenant for the casual way he asked the question. If _he_ had asked, the Captain might have been suspicious. The brotherly bond between Face and Murdock allowed for questions like that to be asked.

The pilot hesitated in peeling the banana for a second and a frown appeared on his face. "Naw. Oh, I was quick 'nough. Coach wanted me for the four hundred meter dash. Had a spot as the anchor runner on one of the relay teams if I wanted it, too." Murdock removed the peel and tossed it into the garbage can. "We had some peanut butter 'round here, didn't we? A peanut butter banana sandwich'd hit the spot 'bout now." He took a table knife from a drawer and began to search through a grocery bag.

"And?" Face glanced at Hannibal and B. A.

"I think we forgot to buy peanut butter 'fore we came out here." He shrugged and took a bite of the banana.

"Listen, man. You gonna tell us why ya didn' make the team 'r not?" B. A. growled.

"Oh." Murdock put the knife back in the drawer and closed it. "There was a jock on the team, Hollis Latreque. Pretty much called the shots who got in and who didn't. I didn't. He made sure I didn't." He shrugged again, ate the rest of the banana and poured himself a cup of coffee.

The three men at the table waited for him to elaborate, following his movements around the kitchen with their eyes.

Murdock changed the subject. "Sorry 'bout the water. Gotta hold your nose to drink it. Sulfur smell. Used to be mineral spring spas 'round these parts. Ya get used to it." He grinned at B. A. "Or you learn to like milk."

He passed by the table, coffee cup in his hand, and grabbed a snack pack box of Sugar Pops on his way out of the kitchen.

"Well, what do you think of that?" Face muttered while Hannibal and B. A. glanced at each other in concern for their friend.

For most of the rest of the day, Murdock rehearsed his lines with whichever of the men were available. He grew noticeably nervous as the time for the audition in Nederland drew closer.

Face and Murdock were in the barn running through act five, scene three. The Captain was perched in the seat of a 1941 Farmall H tractor while the Lieutenant stood, one foot on the ground, the other on a rickety milking stool.

"' . . .O, I could prophesy, But that the earthy and cold hand of death Lies on my tongue' . . . and . . .and . . ." The pilot slapped the steering wheel in frustration. "Closer I get to actually doin' this, the more stagestruck I get. I mean, I did some actin' in high school but I was never a lead role. Lead always went to guys like Hollis 'n' his buddies."

"Look. All you have to do is show up and read your lines from the script. The client has guaranteed you'll play the role of Hotspur on the stage. You have to so you can watch for any funny business going on during the rehearsals or performances." Face reassured his friend for the tenth time that hour. "If there's anyone else auditioning for that part, they'll be cast in one of the other roles instead. Mrs. Bartleman wants you to play Hotspur."

Murdock gave his friend a weak smile. "I 'member Mrs. Bartleman, ya know. Toughest English teacher I ever had. Wonder if she's just as tough as a play director?"

"It's time, guys." Hannibal and B. A. entered the barn.

Climbing down from the tractor, Murdock swallowed hard and walked to the van with Face. "Sure hope I don't choke on my lines, Hannibal."

The Colonel meditated on the cigar in his hand. "You'll do fine, Captain. You're a natural born actor. Think of all the scams you and Face have pulled off."

As B. A. started the engine, Murdock nodded. "Yeah, I guess. We did some pretty good ones, didn't we?"

"Good practice. You can do it, buddy." Face gave the pilot a thumbs up, a gesture repeated by Hannibal, B. A. and finally Murdock himself before the van slowly left the barn.


	4. Chapter 4 Old Acquaintances

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

AN: A brach is a female hound.

Chapter 4 Old Acquaintances

The Nederland Commmunity Playhouse put on their productions in a large converted church building. In past years, carpenters spent quite a bit of time and energy installing rows of theater seating and constructing a large enough platform for the stage area. The one time church sanctuary had a balcony. That, and the outer appearance, cathedral ceiling and stained glass windows Mrs. Bartleman could not bear to part with, were the only indications the edifice was ever anything other than a community theater.

As the four men filed in the front doors of the building they heard a feminine voice from the stage proclaim, "'Then should you be nothing but musical, for you are altogether governed by humors. Lie still, ye thief, and hear the lady sing in Welsh.'"

Murdock smiled. "Act three, scene one." And he mouthed the response as a male voice answered, "'I had rather hear Lady my brach howl in Irish.'"

He glanced toward the stage at the two performers and abruptly sank into an aisle seat. When Face took a careful surprised look at him, he noted the Captain's pale skin and trembling hands.

"Is there something wrong?" The Lieutenant sat down behind him and leaned over the back of the seat to talk.

"Last two people I wanted to ever see 'gain in the whole world," the pilot breathed, "are up on that stage right now."

Face and he stared at the man and woman as the two delivered their lines, the man reading from his script.

Hannibal and B. A. waited to talk to Mrs. Bartleman. When she noticed them, she stood and addressed the actors. "Alright, Hollis and Cynthia. Hollis, thank you for coming in. I may need some help with the next audition so would you stay?"

With a smug smile, the young man nodded and seated himself at the edge of the stage.

Cynthia squinted toward the back of the theater at Face and Murdock, a wondering look in her eyes.

"Pretty girl. So I wonder, is she going to be your wife, Lady Kate Percy, in the production?" The Lieutenant returned her look with a charming smile and turned to his friend.

"I hope not!" Murdock opened his copy of the script and pretended to be studying from it.

"Last minute rehearsal of your lines goes better if you hold the words right side up." Face took the bound script from his friend's hands and turned it over. "So who is she?"

"Olive Oyl, and that arrogant bastard on stage is Brutus. If you want to be her Popeye, jus' be aware you're gonna hafta eat lotsa spinach to win her, Faceman." Murdock unconsciously rubbed the length of his right arm, the script propped open in his lap, knees up on the seat in front of him.

Mrs. Bartleman approached them, Hannibal trailing behind.

B. A. found a seat close to the front of the theater and waited to be told what to do. As far as he was concerned, this was one mission where he was content to be in the background.

The pilot gulped and lowered his knees, standing when the play director stopped directly in front of him. She peered up at him through her cat's-eye framed glasses and then scrutinized him from head to toe.

Nodding briskly, she muttered, "Yes, the field armor should fit. Have you ever done any sword play?" Not waiting for an answer, she sniffed and shook her head. "It doesn't matter. We have someone that can teach you."

Murdock's eyes widened and he smiled. "Real armor? Swords?"

"Douglas Empry the oil tycoon is a patron of this theater and has generously donated from his collection of medieval English armor and weapons. Of course, for the actual death scenes, we'll be utilizing retractable blades for the sword thrusts. We're hoping the display of weapons and armor before and after the performances will draw an audience." Mrs. Bartleman analyzed his enthusiastic expression. "Well, you seem to show more interest in this performance than you ever did in my class, Mr. Murdock. Just remember, you're not here to merely prevent anything bad from happening but to be the best Hotspur this play has ever had."

"That's a mighty big bill to fill, ma'am, seeing as how Sean Connery was Hotspur in 'An Age of Kings' in 1960, Michael Redgrave played him on stage in 1951 in the Festival of Britain 'n' Sir Laurence Olivier himself played him at the Old Vic in 1945." When she cocked an eyebrow at him, Murdock sheepishly looked down at his feet and mumbled, "Got lots of time on my hands lately, lots of time to study up on stuff like that."

She regarded him a few moments with curiosity and then broke her reverie with a shake of her head. "Well, young man, let's see what you are capable of, shall we?" When he didn't immediately follow, she barked over her shoulder, "Are you auditioning tonight or not, Mr. Murdock?"

Face pushed him forward, applying a hand to the small of his back. "Go on. Break a leg, isn't that what they say?"

"If I have to audition opposite either Cynthia or Hollis, I might just get my leg broken for real, 'specially if Hollis's got his eye on that lady or that part," Murdock hissed. He left his friend to think about his words.

"Shall we, Face?" Hannibal gestured toward two aisle seats in the second row from the front next to B. A.

Murdock walked down the center aisle and onto the stage, script tucked under his arm. Hollis stood to glare at him, then gave him a chilling smile and offered his hand.

When the pilot hesitated, Hollis grabbed his hand, shook it and pulled him close to whisper in his ear. "Been gone from these parts a long time, haven'tcha? Heard 'bout your flyin' over in Nam. Don't mean anythin's changed 'tween us." He released the Captain and sneered. "Ya leave Cynthia alone 'n' stay outta my way. Got that?"

Murdock narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

"I've already given Cynthia the role of Lady Kate Percy so let's begin with act two, scene three. Hollis, would you mind taking on the role of the servant in this scene. It's a very short three lines." Mrs. Bartleman failed to see the scowl on Hollis's face as he exited the stage to await his cue.

Hannibal did and made note to keep a careful watch for any mischief from Murdock's old classmate.


	5. Chapter 5 The Last Audition

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 5 The Last Audition

"I'm surprised to see you, H. M. Didn't think I ever would again," Cynthia whispered as they awaited Mrs. Bartleman's cue to begin. "Never mind Hollis. He still thinks he owns me. Probably 'cause I never left Sour Lake after high school."

Murdock managed a nervous smile. "Guess I was surprised to see you, too, Buttercup. If you 'member, las' time I saw you I was in the hospital. Couldn't even graduate with the rest of ya." He mentally kicked himself for using the pet name he called her way back when they were high school seniors.

She frowned and glanced over at Hollis waiting in the wings. "You never told me what happened."

He grimaced. "I left the area soon as I was fit to go. It's water under the bridge now. Don' matter."

"But I need to know. Was it Hollis and his friends?" She grasped his hand in hers. Her hand was as soft as it was the last time he held it.

He gazed into her eyes, trying to determine what to say, whether to tell her the truth. She stood so close to him on stage that he could smell her vanilla-scented perfume. He touched her cheek with his hand, stroking her jawline with his thumb. For a moment his thoughts drifted almost twenty years in the past.

An angry cough from the wings startled him back to the present. He thought of L. A. and the girl who waited for his return and dropped his hand back to his side.

Mrs. Bartleman peered over the rims of her glasses at Cynthia and Murdock. "Both of you are supposed to be offstage at the beginning of act two. This is the scene which begins with Hotspur walking on stage reading a letter warning him against the actions he is proposing to take. Now, go, both of you, and let's begin the audition. This is the last one before we cast the roles and begin rehearsals. I'd like to get it done before my hair gets any grayer."

Both Cynthia and Murdock smirked at that comment. If anything, Mrs. Bartleman's hair had seen more red hair dye than gray hairs over the past few years.

The pilot paused at the wing opposite Hollis and allowed Cynthia to go first, his hand lightly touching her back. His brain was screaming warnings to steer clear of further physical contact with her but he stubbornly squelched the alarms.

Murdock found he did not even need to use the script once he reappeared on stage holding the prop letter. Cynthia delivered her lines flawlessly when she made her entrance. The pilot had forgotten how much a match her intellect and memorization abilities were to his own. He was mesmerized by her performance.

When Hollis came on stage as the servant there was no mistaking the clear threat in his eyes. His three lines were delivered from between clenched teeth. His hands were tightly balled fists as he exited on cue.

They came to the final few exchanges between Hotspur and Lady Percy. Cynthia's voice cracked at one point when she said, "'Do you not love me? Do you not indeed? Well, do not then, for since you love me not I will not love myself. Do you not love me? Nay, tell me if you will speak in jest or no.'"

They finished the scene. For a few silent moments after they left the stage together, Cynthia held both of Murdock's hands in her own and gazed into his eyes. His heart was hammering wildly inside his chest as he debated whether she was waiting for a move on his part or was simply being friendly.

Just as he leaned in to test the former thought, Mrs. Bartleman's voice called them back from the wings. "H. M., Cynthia, that was truly an amazing performance. All I can say is 'Bravo!'"

B. A. leaned over to nudge Hannibal. "The fool's pretty good at this Shakespeare stuff." The older man nodded, his focus on the silently fuming Hollis who watched the pair from the wings.

B. A. followed his gaze to the sulking young actor. "That one's gonna be trouble, Hannibal. Gotta keep our eyes on him, be sure he don' _cream_ Murdock."

"Now I would like to see how much training you might need for the sword fight in act five, scene three, between Hotspur and Prince Henry. Hollis, would you please read the lines of Prince Henry and then both of you use the prop swords in a mock battle. We'll finish where Henry sees Falstaff lying on the ground as if dead. Begin with Hotspur's entrance." The play director settled back in her seat, chewing the end of a pen thoughtfully as she watched.

As soon as Murdock appeared on stage and said his first line, "'If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth'" he sensed that his opponent was going to use the sword fight to inflict punishment on him for touching Cynthia. The Captain braced himself even as he delivered his lines.

Every muscle in Face's body tensed. He recognized the murderous expression Hollis was displaying. "Hannibal, they _are_ using dummy swords, right?"

"Just be ready to move if things get ugly." The Colonel kept his gaze on Hollis.

The pseudo-prince white-knuckled the dummy sword with both hands. He was the first to advance.

With a slashing movement of his arms, he attempted to make contact with Murdock's belly. Even though the swords were props, the blades were still thin enough to cut if a blow was delivered with enough force. The pilot parried, dropping his sword down to his side with both hands and allowing the blade to counter the move. He forced his opponent's blade away and backed up.

"C'mon, ya mudsucker. Play fair. Stick to the script," he rasped. "I ain't fightin' to the death."

"But _I am_."

B. A. was on his feet, heading toward the stage as fast as his feet could carry him. Face vaulted over the seat in front of him and followed the black man.

Mrs. Bartleman stood, her mouth gaping in surprise at the activity around her.

Murdock and Hollis locked swords and the pilot was driven back farther before they disengaged to circle each other. "Haven't you read the script?" Hollis snarled. "Hotspur dies. Henry lives."

The jealous suitor immediately swept the flat part of his sword in an arc toward the side of Murdock's head with as much strength behind it as he could muster. The Captain watched and heard everything in slow motion before the blade struck and he collapsed to the stage floor.


	6. Chapter 6 The Show Must Go On

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 6 The Show Must Go On

For several seconds Murdock lay motionless on the stage floor. Knowing Hollis intended to put him in either the hospital or the morgue, he desperately wanted to play dead. The side of his head throbbed from the blow and his vision was blurred. He wouldn't be able to see Hollis well enough to defend himself against another attack so he forced himself to remain still.

Cynthia was screaming and Mrs. Bartleman was yelling frantic orders. A blur of dark skin and red and denim blue colors hurtled past him. He heard a garbled angry protest from the location Hollis had been last.

"Murdock, buddy, don't move." He heard Face's voice above him and felt his head being lifted and a bunched up bundle of cloth placed underneath.

"Wha's my nex' line, Faceman? 'No, Percy, thou art dust, And food for . . . ' Ain't that how it goes jus' 'fore Hotspur dies?" Murdock was muttering anything to keep his friends from worrying. "Someone take Hollis's toy 'way from 'im 'fore he cuts himself, 'kay?"

"B. A. handled that. You're going to have quite a bruise on the side of your head." That was Hannibal. Murdock squinted through half open eyes at the Colonel kneeling beside him on one side and Face on the other.

There was a rustle of movement and Cynthia knelt beside Face, her eyes wide with horror. She clutched his hand and murmured to Hannibal, "We need to call an ambulance."

Murdock shook his head. "No, Cyndy. No. That's the las' thing I need. Jus' get me on my feet 'n' I'll be fine."

"Mrs. Bartleman, do you have any ice available?" Face was using a pen light to check his friend's pupils. "No way I'm letting you stand up before we check to make sure you didn't get a concussion."

The pilot pushed away their hands and tried to sit up, muttering, "The show mus' go on. Lemme up, guys."

Murdock caught a glimpse of B. A., one fist clutching a large hank of Hollis's shirt front. The burly Sergeant drew the other fist back for a split second before connecting with the amateur actor's jaw.

The Captain flinched, simultaneously glad that Hollis would be too concerned with his own injury to attack but sympathetic to the pain inflicted. "That hadta hurt." He shivered before sinking back to the floor.

"If I have to pull rank on you to make you stay put, I will, Captain." Hannibal gave him a piercing look.

"Does Mrs. Bartleman got any aspirin? I could use a whole bottle, I think." Cynthia stroked the non-injured side of his face until he gripped her fingers between his and lightly squeezed them. "I'm okay, Buttercup. Are you okay?"

For a moment, he wondered if he could play this injury for all it was worth and get her to fall for him all over again. Face was so gifted at it. He suspected with the smallest amount of effort, he could win her back like he did twenty years ago. Then he remembered Daniela in L. A. and knew he had to make Cynthia understand he was not available. It wasn't fair to either woman not to.

"See if you can track the light with your eyes." Face slowly moved the pen light from right to left, then up and down, as if making the sign of the cross. Switching the beam off, he held up two fingers. "How many fingers do you see?"

Murdock smiled with a hint of mischief in his expression. "Two blue shoes."

Cynthia gasped, her alarm evident. She glanced at Face who glared down at Murdock.

"That's not even funny. You're giving your leading lady a heart attack." The conman met Cynthia's eyes and held out his hand. "By the way, my name is Templeton. I'm _usually_ his best friend when he's not being an _idiot_." He slipped the pen light back in his pocket and frowned at his patient. Murdock grinned even wider, then winced.

Mrs. Bartleman approached the small group, an aspirin bottle in one hand and an ice pack in the other. Her expression was a mixture of fury and concern.

After handing Hannibal the aspirin and Face the ice pack, she strode over to Hollis. The jealous rival had staggered to his feet and rubbed his jaw as he shot B. A. uneasy glances.

"Mr. Latreque! I had considered giving you the role of Prince Henry but after this stunt, I'll not have you anywhere _near_ this production. If you need an escort to the door, I'm sure Mr. Baracus can show you the way out." Her complexion reddened as she glared up at the young man. With an angry sniff, she returned to the injured pilot.

Hollis left the stage, pausing at the theater door. "You're goin' to lose this theater, ol' lady. Nothin's gonna stop Pa from buyin' you out and makin' this into a nice big parking lot. Nothin'!"

Mrs. Bartleman paled at his words. The Colonel nodded at the closing door. "Don't worry about that threat. He doesn't know much of anything about your secret weapon: us." He grinned to reassure her.

Cynthia uncapped a bottle of water as Hannibal shook two pills into his gloved hand. When Murdock held up five fingers, the Colonel raised his eyebrows. He removed one more aspirin. "Three's all you get, kid."

"You don't want to combine too many of them with your other meds," Face warned. Cynthia's brow furrowed with confusion.

"I got some explainin' to do, I guess." Looking at her, Murdock almost wished it was twenty years ago.

_Too much water under the bridge to cross it without hurtin' someone in the process. _He sighed.

"As far as I can tell, you'll just have an ugly bruise and a lingering headache. We'll keep a watch over the next few hours to be sure but you should be fine." Face helped Murdock into a sitting position. The Captain took the three aspirins from Hannibal and chewed them up. He washed the fragments down with a swallow from the water bottle Cynthia handed him.

"As I explained to Mr. Smith, you have the role if you feel you can still manage it. I am rather impressed with what I saw, Mr. Murdock. I would be delighted to have you be Hotspur in our production." With amusement, Murdock noticed a blush replace the angry expression on Mrs. Bartleman's face. He winced again as Cynthia held the ice pack to his bruise.

"Long as I don' have to fight to the death for real anymore, Mrs. Bartleman, I'd be honored to be your Hotspur."


	7. Chapter 7 Help From a Friend

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 7 Help From a Friend

"It was a good audition, wasn't it, Face?" Murdock was lying on the top bunk in his old bedroom. His eyes focused on the knotholes in the wood paneling covering the walls. "I mean, I didn' get the part jus' 'cause ya'll needed me to be on stage somehow, right?"

Face yawned. The oil lantern was a kind of night light meant to prevent Murdock from sleepwalking. Hannibal had insisted on it but the conman didn't know if it would actually work or not.

In a way, the soft glow seemed peaceful to the Lieutenant. He lounged on top of the covers in his silk pajamas and monogrammed matching robe and watched the flame flicker. He tried to imagine a childhood where a bunk bed meant you could invite a friend for a sleepover instead of being one of several in a dormitory setting. Lord, he envied Murdock his childhood.

"You were good, buddy. Trust me, Mrs. Bartleman was amazed. I think all of us were." He leaned to the side and looked up toward his friend but couldn't clearly see him. "Your audition with Cynthia was especially convincing."

Face couldn't be positive but he thought he heard Murdock shift positions and sigh.

"Yeah."

Curious, the conman pressed a little harder with his questions, phrasing them as statements. "She seems to really like you."

This time the sigh was heavier. "Yeah."

"It seemed like you two knew each other pretty well at one time." _If you say 'yeah' one more time, I might throttle you._

"Yeah." Murdock swung his legs over the edge of the bunk and lowered himself onto the floor. He walked over to the shelves that lined the wall and picked up a baseball, backhanding it into the air and catching it. "Listen, Face. You gotta help me."

"How?"

"Cynthia 'n' me, we went together back when we were seniors in high school. Talked 'bout gettin' married someday. Then I ended up in the hospital. I left town soon as I was well 'nough. Best for everyone I did. Kept goin' west 'til I was old 'nough 'n' the recruiter made me a deal I couldn't refuse." He chuckled bitterly. "Cynthia 'n' me, we lost contact. It was for the best." Murdock was still facing the shelves. He turned the baseball over and over in his hand, stroking the red stitching with his pointer finger.

"And now?" Face saw the pilot's shoulders slump as he returned the baseball to the shelf and picked up a short stack of comic books.

"I don't know. Faceman, I'm not seventeen anymore. A lot's happened in twenty years." Face wasn't prepared for the bleak look Murdock gave him. "A lifetime of ugly's happened to make me poison to a sweet small town gal like Cyndy."

"That's nonsense." Face said it but didn't believe what he said. He knew only too well the kind of ugly life events Murdock was talking about. "What about Daniela?"

The pilot smirked as he brought the comic books back to the bed and climbed back to the top bunk. "Look where she works. She's seen 'n' heard lots of stories from Nam vets. 'N' her family's Mob, 'member? Talk 'bout a lifetime of ugly. We fit each other."

"So how do I help you?"

"Turn on your charm. Get Cynthia to like you. Keep remindin' me I got a gal I love already." Murdock hung his head over the edge of the bunk and looked at Face. "Please? I don' wanna hurt either of 'em."

Face sighed. "Well, you know it won't be as easy as you think if she's trying to relive your senior year. I'm a poor substitute for a glorious memory."

Murdock grinned in relief. "I have faith in your abilities, Faceman. Jus' watch out for Hollis."

Face stared at the large bruise on the pilot's temple and shuddered. "Yeah."

A different kind of conversation was taking place about the same time in an office building in Beaumont, fifteen miles northwest of the playhouse in Nederland.

"I sent you to Nederland to get a major role in that play, Hollis. What went wrong?" The man behind the desk tapped a pen on the blotter and waited for an answer.

"Ol' lady Bartleman wanted someone else in those parts. I got the idea Hotspur was cast before the auditions were even held. It wasn't my fault, Pa."

"Oh?" Hollis's father stared at him. "Then where'd the big bruise come from on your jaw? Mrs. Bartleman give that to ya?"

"She's got a big black guy to be her muscle when someone makes trouble."

"You weren't supposed to make trouble . . . yet."

"Yeah, well, there was someone there that got me in trouble. I had to defend myself. You 'member H. M. Murdock, that skinny kid always tormented me at school? He auditioned for Hotspur, too." Hollis let the lies fill the air. He knew his father always had a blind eye as far as his son's misbehavior and illegal dealings.

"I thought he would have stayed away from here for the rest of his life after graduation. And he got the part?" Mr. Latreque narrowed his eyes and regarded his son as he nodded.

The man behind the desk reached for his telephone and dialed a number. "Yeah, Deke? Listen, go down to the Short Stop Tavern and pull Harley McKeever off his bar stool. Tell 'im I know where that kid of his is . . . if you can't find 'im there, look for 'im at every bar in Beaumont. Yeah, thanks, Deke. There'll be some extra money comin' your way this week if you deliver . . ."

As Mr. Latreque hung up the phone he glowered at his son. "If this Murdock is out of the way, you and my associates can convince the old lady to give up on the theater. I want you to be with McKeever everywhere he goes. Keep him sober. Help him get hold of that boy of his. Maybe this time that old drunk will finish the job he started twenty years ago."


	8. Chapter 8 Need To Talk

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 8 Need To Talk

Rehearsals began the next day after Murdock's audition.

Over the following week each member of the team was engaged in some aspect of the production.

B. A. put his strength and mechanical knowhow into set building and maintaining and repairing the wiring for both sound and lighting.

He refused to help Murdock rehearse his lines. "Don' know what the crazyman's sayin' half the time now. Be even harder to understan' him when he's talkin' medieval nonsense."

Hannibal took a turn at helping to paint the backdrops and rehearsed some of the actors with their lines offstage. Although stage acting was far from what he did in Hollywood when he played the role of the Aquamaniac, the Colonel was comfortable with the part he had to play behind the scenes in Nederland.

Face applied his charm and skills to designing advertisements and programs and lining up appearances on local and regional radio and television shows for Mrs. Bartleman.

"If you get an opportunity to talk about what you are trying to accomplish by staging this production, you may attract a larger audience," he explained, his hands on her shoulders, his eyes engaging hers. He amazed himself at his effectiveness with her. "Talk about the medieval armor and weapons collection on display. Thank Douglas Empry for his generosity and patronage. You'll be giving him free good publicity and ensuring his future patronage. Get the public to stand behind you in saving the theater from foreclosure. "

Mrs. Bartleman buckled under Face's charm and willingly went where he told her to go to promote the show. Every time he flashed her one of his smiles she dimpled and blushed like a teenager.

"Sure wish you woulda been 'round when she was my English teacher, Faceman." Murdock smiled at his friend after Mrs. Bartleman giggled at one of Face's compliments and hustled off to another radio interview. "I was jus' bored in her class, that was all. You coulda helped me nail an A without a whole lotta effort."

"What can I say?" Face grinned back. "If the client's happy and we do our job, all's good, right?"

Even though she appeared in only two of the eighteen scenes, Cynthia drove into Nederland after work each day to lend assistance in whatever Mrs. Bartleman required. Her almost constant presence distracted Murdock.

On the third day of rehearsals, the pilot pulled Face off to the side of the theater.

"I thought you were gonna throw your charms at Cynthia 'n' get the heat off me, Faceman." Murdock ran his hands through his thinning brown hair and sighed in frustration. "All I see you doin' is tryin' to flatter Mrs. Bartleman. It'd be fine if Mrs. B. was my problem but she ain't."

Face adjusted his tie and gave his friend an offended look. "It's difficult charming two women at once. I mean, I can do it but I have to concentrate on my job, after all. Right now, that means getting the word out to the public about Nederland Community Playhouse."

"Well, Cynthia wants to go out for coffee sometime tonight. Can't you pull yourself away from Mrs. B. long 'nough to go with us?" Murdock gripped Face's arm. "Please? Pretty please with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on it?"

The conman laughed at the phrasing of the plea. "Isn't that supposed to be 'with sprinkles on top?' Besides, weren't you going to talk to her in private about Daniela? You don't need me to do that, do you?"

Murdock glanced toward the stage where B. A. tinkered with a stage light. "Guess I can't get the mudsucker to go with us either, huh? Thing is, whenever I'm alone 'round Cynthia, I'm thinkin' like it's high school all over 'gain. I got a girl but I'm gonna slip up if she keeps draggin' me back to the past. You get what I'm sayin', don'tcha?"

Face tried to imagine what that would feel like, being so much in love with one girl that other girls had to be turned away, even high school sweethearts who came back on the scene after years of absence. He remembered Leslie, his first love who became a nun years after they lost contact with each other. It was a painful memory of loss that he didn't want to openly confess. "No. I was never _that_ much in love. Sorry."

He could see the disappointment in the pilot's eyes. Glancing toward the back of the theater, he clapped Murdock on the shoulder. "She's here. If you don't have a scene to rehearse, I'd take her out to coffee now. No time like the present to take care of things and make it right between you."

The Captain swallowed hard and stood up. "Guess so. Wish me luck."

Face watched as Murdock, hands in his pants pockets, ambled toward Cynthia. Dressed in a navy blue knee length skirt and a full-sleeved white blouse with a deep V neck, the young woman was so dazzling Face regretted having to stay at the theater.

"Good luck, buddy. You're going to need it," he said under his breath.

The pilot stopped in front of the young woman and stared resolutely down at the red carpeted aisle. "So," Murdock mumbled, "Wanna get outta here for a while 'n' find some coffee somewhere, Cynthia?"

"Don't you have some scenes to rehearse? We could go after you're done." She reached up and brushed his cheek with her fingertips.

Face, watching from a distance, muttered, "Hang in there, Murdock. Do what you have to do."

"Then let's ask Mrs. Bartleman if she needs us for anything. Okay?" He grasped her hand and led her to where the theater owner was overseeing a group of workers painting a backdrop.

"Mrs. Bartleman? Ma'am? Uh, I was wonderin' if you had anythin' for Cynthia and me to do for a couple a hours. We were gonna go talk over some coffee. Promise we'll be back 'fore you know we were even gone." Murdock felt himself stammering like he was back in high school asking for a hall pass or a deadline extension on a research paper.

He was surprised at himself, acting as if the elderly woman was still in the position to give him a failing grade. It felt almost like the past and everything in it was reaching out with tendrils to ensnare him. It was an uncomfortable feeling, knowing too many ghosts and terror-filled memories waited for him in that trap.

The play director got a smile and an all-knowing look on her face and patted Cynthia on the arm. "You take the night off, dear. We can focus on the scenes where Hotspur doesn't appear. Have a nice talk."

Murdock draped his arm over Cynthia's shoulder and walked her toward the door. She wrapped her arm around his waist, hooking her finger in one of his belt loops. She smiled up into his serious face.

Mrs. Bartleman called after them in a playful tone, "Don't get in trouble, you two." She turned back to her work, shaking her head and smiling. "Young lovers."


	9. Chapter 9 A Whole Lotta History

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 9 A Whole Lotta History

Cynthia drove to a little all night cafe twenty minutes away on Washington Boulevard in Beaumont. The restaurant was almost deserted except for one waitress, a cook and an elderly couple seated in a front booth. Murdock guided Cynthia to the back of the room, his hand resting in the middle of her back. He seated her in a booth, then took the bench seat opposite her.

After asking the waitress for coffee and a couple of pieces of lemon meringue pie, he picked up a napkin from the holder.

"It was nice of Mrs. Bartleman to let us go like that." Cynthia smiled and touched his hand with hers.

"Yeah." He began tearing the napkin into long strips, focusing on his hands rather than her eyes.

"Something's wrong, isn't it." He could hear the confusion in her voice and couldn't prevent his gaze from straying to her face.

"Yeah." He caught her distressed expression and quickly added, "Not you. Definitely not you. It's just . . . " He paused. "It's been almost twenty years, Buttercup." His eyes met hers. "A lotta history happened to me."

"It was twenty years for me, too, H. M." She spoke softly. "When you left, I didn't know what to do. I stayed here, hoping you'd come back someday. And you did."

He didn't know how to respond. Sighing, he repeated, "A lotta history happened to me, Cyndy."

The waitress brought their pie and a coffee pot to the table, interrupting their conversation.

When she left, Murdock picked up the fork and picked at the pie meringue. "I saw 'n' did things in Nam that changed me."

"I've changed, too."

"It's not the same." Murdock swallowed a mouthful of coffee and grimaced. "When I came back to the States, I may as well've been a dead man. I was broken into a bazillion itty bitty pieces. Some of those pieces stayed over there. Rest they packed up and sent back to the States with the hollow shell of what I'd become. Hadn't been for Face, I would've stayed broken."

"I don't understand."

He clasped her hands. "I know you don't. Truth is, I live in the psych ward of the L. A. Veteran's Hospital. Been there for a long time. And now _Dani's_ mendin' the parts of me Face and the guys couldn't reach."

"Who's Danny? Is he another Viet Nam vet?"

Murdock sighed and bowed his head over her hands. "No." _This is as difficult as I thought it would be. How do I answer without hurting her?_

She gripped his hands tighter. "But you're here now. You don't seem crazy to me. And if you need help, I'll stand by you while you get well."

He flinched. "It's not that easy, Cyndy. That Dani I mentioned . . . " Just as he was about to tell her about Daniela he glanced up at the cafe door. "What is _he_ doin' here?" he muttered. "'N' why is Hollis with 'im?"

Cynthia began to look over her shoulder to see what he was seeing.

"Don' turn 'round!" he hissed. "Listen, you know if there's another exit close by? You 'n' me gotta scoot without them seein' us."

She lowered her voice to match his. "No exit back here but the men's and women's bathrooms are down that hallway to the side." With her eyes, she directed his gaze to his left.

He groaned in frustration. "Are there windows of some kind in those bathrooms, d'ya know?" He leaned closer across the table.

His frantic wild eyes frightened her. "I don't know about the men's room but there's a window in the women's room."

He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. "Okey dokey. This is what I want you to do, sweetie. As inconspicuously as you can, I want you to stand up 'n' go to the ladies' room. See if you can climb through the window 'n' get outside. Go to your truck quick as you can, get in 'n' lock it. Lay down on the seat or somethin' but don' let 'em see ya. If I'm not out there in fifteen minutes, get to the theater fast as you can 'n' tell Hannibal there's trouble. Got all that?"

Her eyes widened and she shook her head. "I can't leave you."

He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. "It's our only chance to get 'way. Please, Buttercup, do what I tell you."

She squeezed his hands. He sensed her rise from the booth and heard her footsteps as she made her way to the restroom. The door creaked as she opened it. Then he heard her lock the door from the inside.

Breathing a relieved sigh, he opened his eyes and glanced around the coffee shop. The couple from the front booth were standing at the register paying for their meal. His father and Hollis had their backs turned to the shop's front door, waiting to talk to the waitress. They were looking out a side window toward the parking lot. He waited, collecting his thoughts for what he had to do next to make his own escape.

_Maybe if I'm very careful, I can sneak past 'em out the door. _

He took out his wallet and tossed a ten dollar bill onto the table to pay for the coffee and uneaten pie. Waiting for a few minutes, he steeled his nerves, praying he would be like Claude Rains in the 1933 movie _The Invisible Man. _ Pulling the brim of his baseball cap down as low over his eyes as he could, he stood up and jammed his hands in his jacket pockets. His gut wrenched with a long-suppressed terror as he made his way toward the door and freedom.

_God, don' let 'im see me or I'm a dead man._

Using his peripheral vision, he saw their interest become focused on something in the parking lot. With a sickening panic rising in his throat, he realized what that something was.

_I sent Cyndy out there. _

Murdock made an impulsive decision and did the only thing he could think of to divert their attention. He quickened his pace and as he opened the cafe door, yelled, "Hey, suckers! Ya want me? Come get me!"


	10. Chapter 10 The Chase

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 10 The Chase

"Hey, suckers! You want me? Come get me!"

The elderly couple and the waitress gaped at Murdock as he yanked open the door and darted out onto the sidewalk. He chanced a look toward Cyndy's El Camino in the parking lot. She fumbled with her key, trying to insert it into the lock.

Behind him, the door of the coffee shop slammed open. The bell over the door jangled fiercely. He slowed long enough to assure himself that his father and Hollis were following and that Cyndy saw him and them. Then he ran.

After two blocks the sound of following footsteps went from two pursuers to one. Murdock knew if his father was anything like the alcoholic he was in the past, Harley McKeever was the one that dropped out of the chase. Probably wheezing and leaning against some building. That left Hollis.

_Legs, don't fail me. Hope Hollis ain't in the same condition he was in high school or I'm dead. _

By the fifth block, sprinting as fast as he could, Murdock's lungs were burning. He put a little distance between his classmate and himself but not enough to allow for a slower pace. He ducked into an alley and turned onto side streets but he couldn't get rid of his pursuer. Hollis showed no signs of ending the chase.

_Why don't he give up? He's gotta give up sometime, don't he?_

By the seventh block, Murdock was glad he kept himself in good physical condition. Pumping his arms to keep the momentum, shortening his stride to maximize his speed, he called on all of his high school training to keep running. He was so focused on keeping his gaze straight ahead he didn't see the headlights coming toward him. The vehicle, a 72 red El Camino, was almost beside him when it slowed down.

"H. M.!" someone screamed from the driver's seat.

He threw open the door and scrambled in. "Put the pedal to the metal, Cyndy!"

The tires screeched as he slammed the door and she stomped on the accelerator. He glimpsed Hollis as they sped past. His face was contorted with rage and he yelled unintelligible threats at them. A second after they passed, the rear window shattered from something the attacker threw at the truck.

"Oh yeah, forgot he was the star pitcher on the summer rec baseball team." Murdock leaned back in the seat, closed his eyes and tried to get his breathing and heart rate back to normal.

"I couldn't get it started right away. Bad battery. I almost didn't find you." Cyndy glanced at him, the worry of the last several minutes beginning to relax from her features.

"Glad ya found me when ya did. I couldn't a kept runnin' for much longer." He gave her a crooked grin. "You don't do too bad as a getaway driver, kinda like Faye Dunaway in _Bonnie and Clyde_. Just as beautiful, too."

"Thanks, I think." She smirked. "Only I think you look better than Warren Beatty. And weren't both of them the bad guys in that movie?"

He thought for a moment. "Yeah, guess you're right. Tell you what. You just be Cynthia Berquon and I'll be H. M. Murdock, 'kay?"

"That sounds fine to me. So where do we go now?"

He sighed. "Guess we gotta let Hannibal know what happened so they can be on the lookout."

"But for what? All they did was run after you."

"What do you think they wanted to do, Cyndy? Get my autograph?" He said it in a tone harsher than he meant to and immediately regretted it. He tried again in a gentler voice. "Look. Seein' them askin' 'round in the same place we were havin' coffee was too much of a coincidence for me. Hollis maybe recognized your truck in the parkin' lot which means they're lookin' for you or me or both of us. The pair of them together only means trouble."

"I know Hollis is looking for trouble but who was that with him? I don't know that I remember seeing him around." She glanced over at Murdock.

"You likely haven't seen 'im 'round unless you go to a lotta bars. That was my birth father. Goes by the name of Harley McKeever." He turned his face from her and stared fixedly at the buildings they passed.

"Harley McKeever." She repeated the name, then took in a sharp breath. "Harley McKeever. H. M.!"

"Yeah, my mother had a real cute sense of humor, didn't she? Givin' me initials instead of a name and makin' the initials stand for her ex-husband." He shook his head. "They married at eighteen and were already divorced by the time I was born two years later. Guess it was a twisted kind of revenge namin' me like she did. I was her way of gettin' back at him."

"I never knew. I'm sorry." Her words were soft and sympathetic. For a couple of minutes she drove on in silence. Abruptly she asked, "Why did she leave him?"

Murdock turned toward her. She flinched at the dark look he gave her. The shadows of the early evening made the bruise near his temple seem larger and uglier.

"Why does any woman leave a drunk?" When he saw her shudder, knowing she understood, he turned away again and glared at the street ahead. "We gotta get back 'n' tell the Colonel 'bout Hollis trailin' us, at least. In fact, why don'tcha let me drive the rest of the way?"

Cynthia pulled over to the side of the boulevard and slid over to the middle of the bench seat while Murdock got out and walked around to the driver's side. Getting in, he steered the vehicle back into the driving lane.

She nestled beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. Sensing her begin to shiver, he drove one-handed, wrapping his right arm around her. "There now, sweetie, no need to be frightened. The guys 'n' me'll make sure nothin' happens to you or anyone else at the theater, 'kay?" He took his eyes off the road and kissed the top of her head. "Promise you."

He drove in silence, trying to think of the best way to get back to the conversation that had been interrupted. Her closeness jumbled his thinking. One moment he was seventeen again and driving her home and the next he was in his mid-30s and wondering how to tell her about Daniela.

As they neared their turn from South Fourth Street onto West Cardinal Drive, a pair of headlights approached from behind. Moving at least fifteen miles per hour over the speed limit, the front bumper of the following truck made contact with the rear of Cynthia's vehicle and began to speed up. Both trucks shot across the intersection, over the curb and toward an area of brush and trees.

"Hang on, Buttercup!" Murdock yelled as he gripped the steering wheel with both hands and fought to keep control of the vehicle.


	11. Chapter 11 Hit and Run

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 11 Hit and Run

While Hannibal and B. A. stayed at the theater to provide assistance during rehearsal and ensure the safety of Mrs. Bartleman and the cast and crew, Face called it a night.

Murdock had an extra set of keys made to get into the farmhouse and the conman could think of nothing better than to lounge around there for a while. The atmosphere of the place was beginning to give him a sense of peace he hadn't felt for a long time. Not even when he managed to scam a free stay at a beach house did he feel so much at home.

Hannibal tossed the key over with a grin. "I hope you won't be interrupting anything between our Captain and that young lady of his. They seem to have a bit of a history together."

Face swallowed, remembering his promise to Murdock. "Just what I hope I _don't _find, Colonel. He has a girl back in L. A., remember?"

Mrs. Bartleman overheard their conversation and blushed deep pink. "I didn't know. I didn't mean to cause trouble for him with his young lady. He may have been a bit of a lazy student in my class but he's turned out to be a nice young man, despite his background."

Face saw the sudden interest Hannibal took in what Mrs. Bartleman said. Figuring either Murdock would let him know whatever he needed to know or the Colonel would fill him in later, he excused himself and left the building. He was curious but the prospect of a quiet evening at the farmhouse beckoned to him. He was thankful they brought both the van and the Corvette so he could make an early escape.

Driving along US-69, the Lieutenant thought about Daniela and Cynthia and how different their backgrounds seemed to be. He chuckled over Murdock's dilemma.

_This is the kind of scrape **I** manage to get myself into, not Murdock. _

Face's stomach grumbled and he realized with all of his escorting Mrs. Bartleman from place to place, he had failed to eat anything since lunch. There would be no homecooked meal from Murdock tonight, if his friend and Cynthia were having the talk he hoped they were. He took the first exit onto West Cardinal Drive.

None of the fast food joints along that road interested him and he was about to turn around and get back on the freeway when he noticed a familiar truck cross the drive.

"I wonder if Cynthia has any ideas on where to find a good meal." Stopping at the intersection of West Cardinal Drive and South Fourth Street, he signaled to turn left and follow the couple. A white Ford Bronco crossed in front of him, accelerating as it did.

The whole incident took less than two or three minutes. One moment the front truck was signaling to turn. The next moment the two vehicles collided, back bumper to front grill and careened across the eastbound lanes of West Cardinal Drive and into the brush and trees. Cynthia's El Camino came to a halt, a sapling toppled over onto its roof. The driver of the Bronco reversed, spitting dirt from under his tires as he did, and sped down the road.

Face made his turn and parked the Corvette off the road. Scrambling from the driver's seat, he rushed toward the scene of the accident.

The El Camino had been pushed deep into the undergrowth and trees. The Lieutenant noted the shattered back window as he passed by it. As he cleared the way to the driver's door, he sucked in his breath, unsure of what he would find.

A small bit of a prayer for protection, remembered from his years of growing up in the Catholic orphanage, escaped his lips as he neared the front of the truck.

"Assist us, O Lord our God; and defend us evermore by the might of Thy holy Cross, in whose honor Thou makest us to rejoice," he muttered as he bent to peer in the window.

The Captain sat upright, eyes closed, his head resting back against the seat. He hugged Cynthia loosely, her head against his shoulder. Tears coursing down her face, she clasped her right wrist with her left hand.

Not until Face tapped at the window did either of them realize he was there. Murdock opened his eyes for a second and then closed them again, swallowing as he did.

"I'm going to try to get this door open, okay? Hang in there, guys." Face grasped the door handle and pulled, forcing the door to open against the bushes underneath and beside it. "Where are you hurt?" he asked Murdock.

"I think Cyndy's got a broken wrist," the pilot whispered. "Me? I hit the steering wheel, think I mighta cracked a rib or somethin'. Hurts."

"I can't take you to the emergency room." Face stood and ran his hand through his hair. "There would be too many questions. And it's not going to be long before someone will stop and try to assist."

Murdock shifted in his seat, continuing to gently hold Cynthia. "Get me back home, Faceman. Anythin' I need done can be done back there." He opened his eyes and pleaded with his friend. "Only try to figure a way to get Cyndy to the emergency room. She's gonna need her wrist looked at."

"Let's get you two back to the 'Vette and I'll call the theater. Maybe Mrs. Bartleman can help."

"You're gonna hafta lay here for a few seconds, Buttercup. I'm gonna try to get out of the truck, then we'll get you out, 'kay?" As Murdock laid her back on the seat, Cynthia moaned softly. He stroked her cheek with his hand to quiet her. "Shh . . . it's gonna be alright. Shhh, now." Cynthia gazed up at him, trust in her eyes, and nodded.

He twisted around in the seat to position his legs to get out and immediately squeezed his eyes shut. His breath came in short gasps and he clutched at his ribs.

"Let me help you out of there." Face bent and slung one of Murdock's arms across his shoulder.

As the pilot stood, he drew in a sharp breath.

"I'll get you up to the car first and then come back, okay?" The way back to the road and the waiting vehicle was rough and more than once weeds entangled the injured man's feet, tripping him. With each jolting movement, his face pinched with pain. Several minutes passed before Face helped Murdock into the back seat to lie down.

Then he went back for Cynthia, lifting her out of the truck and carrying her in his arms. She kept her eyes on his, tears continuing to pool in her eyes and trickle down her face. "Please tell me H. M. will be alright," she whispered.

Face gave her a grim smile. "He's been through much worse injuries and lived. He won't be playing Twister with you anytime soon, though." He mentally chided himself for that statement. That was exactly the kind of suggestive remark Murdock didn't want Cynthia to think about.

Placing her carefully in the front passenger's seat, Face got in the driver's side and made a call on the mobile phone.

"Mrs. Bartleman? Could I speak to Hannibal? Yes, I'll wait . . . Colonel? We've got a problem."


	12. Chapter 12 Bruises and Secrets

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 12 Bruises and Secrets

B. A. paced back and forth in Murdock's bedroom, alternately smacking one fist into an open palm and muttering furious threats. Every time the Captain sucked in his breath during Hannibal's probing examination for injuries, he stopped, gritted his teeth and continued his agitated movements.

"I'd betta not see that sucka anywhere near Nederland, Hannibal, or I'll hafta be tried for first degree murder," he finally said.

"Won't help, Big Guy." Murdock squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced as the Colonel pressed his fingers into his rib cage on his left side. "This thing 'tween us from high school ain't the whole reason he's got it in for me. And it ain't just him involved."

Hannibal nodded in agreement. "Mrs. Bartleman told me she's being pressured by Mr. Latreque to sell the property to him. Hollis was probably the insider that would make sure _Henry IV_ would fail. If this production doesn't turn a profit, the bank will foreclose. Guess who might be in line to resume the mortgage and take possession?"

"Ain't just him either, Colonel." Murdock let out a sharp yelp as the Colonel found a bruised rib. "We just 'bout done with the exam? I gotta find out how Cyndy's doin'."

"You goin' nowhere for a few hours, fool. If I gotta sit on ya to make ya stay, I will." B. A. stopped beside the bunk bed and glowered down at the lower bunk where Murdock rested.

"That'd hurt." The pilot said with a serious expression.

"That'd be right, so don' make me." B. A. turned away to give Hannibal a wink and a smirk before continuing his pacing.

The Colonel smiled and addressed his patient. "Besides, Face went with Mrs. Bartleman and Cynthia to the emergency room. Nothing should happen to them _inside_ with him watching the entrances _outside_. After Cynthia's released they'll drop Mrs. Bartleman off at the theater and then come back here. You can't hurry anything along by being there."

Hannibal frowned as his examination caused Murdock to wince in pain again. "No cracked or broken ribs from what I can tell. If anything, your ribs are severely bruised from the accident. No other injuries besides bruises. I'd say you were pretty fortunate. It's still going to take a while to heal. You need to rest and when you begin rehearsal again, we'll use ice packs and control the pain."

He pulled the blanket up to the pilot's chest and took a cigar out of his pocket.

"Kinda wish ya wouldn't smoke that in here, Colonel." Murdock glanced up at the older man apologetically. "I mean, I letcha do it the first night we got here but Gramma never could stand tobacco in her house. Even Grampa had to chew 'n' spit outside."

The Colonel shrugged and placed the cigar back in his pocket. "You said it wasn't just Hollis and his father who were responsible for this." He surveyed the younger man's reaction as he said, "It might be a good idea for the rest of us to know who else is involved so we can be on the alert."

Murdock turned his face toward the wall to avoid Hannibal's probing gaze. "Person ain't doin' it for Latreque. I know that for sure. Latreque sicced 'im on me but it's for his _own_ satisfaction he's doin' it. I jus' gotta watch my back better." He looked at Hannibal and then at B. A. "It ain't your affair. I can handle it."

"Looks like you ain't doin' a good job of it so far, man," B. A. grunted.

The pilot raised himself onto his elbows and would have sat up all the way had the pain from his bruised ribs not stopped him. He sank back into the pillow with a gasp. "Back off, B. A.," he snarled.

Hannibal motioned for B. A. to be quiet. "You know, Captain, even Don Quixote had Sancho Panza to back him up."

"This ain't a windmill I'm fightin', Colonel. He ain't my imagination. I _wish_ he was." Murdock slung one forearm over his eyes. "Jus' leave me 'lone, guys. Let me know when Cyndy gets back."

Hannibal considered the family background information Mrs. Bartleman supplied him and decided against using it to make Murdock talk. "Come on, B. A. One of us will check in on you every half hour to see if you need anything." The two men left the room.

Murdock laughed bitterly, then moaned with the pain that resulted.

Hannibal motioned for the Sergeant to follow him downstairs.

"Stubborn-minded crazy fool!" B. A. shook his head and muttered.

"If what Mrs. Bartleman said is true, we need to let him be the one to tell us. Let him take his time. We'll try to watch his back without him knowing about it." Hannibal lit the propane camp stove and put on the pot of coffee.

"So you think it's his Pa? Man, can't wrap my mind 'round that sort o' thing." B. A. opened the cooler and took out a small carton of milk. Sniffing at the contents and scowling, he said, "Hope Face brings some ice from town."

"He'll tell us when he's comfortable talking. I'm not going to rush him." Hannibal glanced at the Sergeant. "And you aren't either. Sometimes Face can get him to talk when the rest of us can't."

B. A. stared down at the floor and mumbled, "Yeah. Poor fool."

An hour passed with first B. A. and then Hannibal making the trip upstairs to visit Murdock.

"Colonel, can I ask ya somethin'?" the pilot said when Hannibal opened the door.

The Colonel paused in the doorway. He analyzed the younger man's mood. "Sure. What do you need, Captain?"

Murdock gave Hannibal a careful look. Then he smiled. "Not what I need; what you 'n' the guys need. Who's gonna cook for y'all? Least if you help me go downstairs, I can supervise. Jus' don' ask me nothin' 'bout my past, 'kay?"


	13. Chapter 13 Truth Hurts

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 13 Truth Hurts

"Cut that beef steak inta strips. Make 'em 'bout a half inch wide." When Face and Cynthia entered the front door of the old farmhouse, Murdock's voice was the first thing they heard from the kitchen.

Face looked at Cynthia, a smirk touching his lips. "It sounds like our resident cook is on the job."

"Should he be doing that if he's hurt?" She pursed her lips. "Cast or no cast, if no one else is going to help him, I will." She stalked to the kitchen door, determination in her steps. Face followed, wondering what possessed Hannibal to allow Murdock to leave his sick bed.

They were both surprised to see B. A. and Hannibal busy at the kitchen counter. The Colonel's shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He chopped an assortment of onions, tomatoes and green peppers and placed the diced vegetables into a large bowl.

B. A. was slicing pieces from a large steak and tossing the strips into an oiled skillet.

The couch had been carried into the dining room within view of the activity in the kitchen. Partially propped up by two pillows under his head, Murdock lay halfway covered by an old army blanket.

He was so intent on making sure the two men were following his instructions that he did not see Face and Cynthia at first.

"H. M.?"

At the sound of Cynthia's voice, Murdock attempted to pull himself into position to stand up. B. A. shot a menacing glance at him. "Remember what I said, fool."

The pilot gulped and lowered himself back onto the pillows. He raised his hands sheepishly in front of him in a gesture of surrender.

The sight of Hannibal and B. A. making supper was so unexpected and uncharacteristic that Face started chuckling. He stopped when both B. A. and Cynthia glared at him.

"'Less you want to be wearin' this steak, you better find a way ta help, Faceman." B. A.'s scowl indicated how little he enjoyed helping to prepare the meal.

"Rice should be just 'bout done, Colonel. You wanna check it?" Murdock absently gave his CO the order. His attention was on Cynthia. He scrutinized her from head to toe, his eyes finally resting on the white plaster around her hand and ending mid-arm. Patting the couch, he invited her to sit down with him. She hesitated, then perched on the edge of the couch, careful not to press against his abdomen.

"Hurt much?" he murmured, nodding to the cast. He was relieved when she shook her head.

"How about you?" She stared down at her cast, refusing to make eye contact.

Puzzled, he responded. "Oh, I don't get put outta action _that_ easily, Buttercup."

He frowned, glancing at Face and then back at Cynthia. Something had been said between them during those hours at the emergency room. He had the uneasy feeling that the _something_ had caused Cyndy more pain than the broken wrist.

"I really wish you wouldn't call me that anymore, H. M. Templeton told me all about your girl back in Los Angeles. Dani, isn't it?" Her lower lip was quivering. "Why didn't you come right out and _tell_ me? I would have understood. I wouldn't have thought . . . " She stifled a sob and bowed her head over her folded arms.

He ached inside as he watched her inner torment showing itself in her trembling and tears. "I _tried!_" he protested. "Didn't I, Face?"

Face glanced at him and shrugged an apology. He could see Murdock was upset but, after all, how could he charm Cynthia if she had eyes only for the pilot? That was what Murdock asked him to do. If his friend was having trouble telling her the truth, well, . . .

Cynthia swiped tears away from her eyes and drew in a deep breath. "I'll be alright. At least I know now." She looked into his eyes once more before standing up. "I'm glad you're not hurting."

She walked over to the kitchen counter, his anguished gaze following her. "Here," she murmured to B. A., "let me take over. I'm a pretty good cook and I have a feeling I know what H. M. wants you guys to make."

Surprised, the Sergeant handed her the knife and mumbled his thanks. She slipped a plastic bread bag over her cast to prevent it from getting damp or dirty. B. A. wiped his hands on a moist dish cloth before walking over to the couch where Murdock lay. "Knew you was a fool. Hurt the lil' lady pretty bad," he muttered low enough that Cynthia couldn't hear. "Don' understand you, man."

Face approached Hannibal and took over the kitchen duty he was engaged in. While the Captain watched, Face and Cynthia worked together to finish preparing supper.

_This is what I wanted, right? So how come I feel like someone took an ice cream scoop to my insides? _

Hannibal brought a chair over to the couch and sat down. "Sorry, Captain." He shifted in the seat but wouldn't look at Murdock.

"It's alright, Colonel. Truth had to come out sooner 'r later. Jus' wish I'da told her myself. Woulda been better, ya know?" He squeezed his eyes shut against the self-condemnation and inner pain.

He heard Hannibal shift positions in the chair again and knew he was uncomfortable talking about the subject. "When do you think you'll feel up to going back to the theater?"

"Soon as possible. If Mrs. Bartleman doesn't mind, maybe hold off on the fight scenes for a few days. Think I'd better call Dani tonight, too, if ya wouldn't mind me usin' the mobile phone in the van." Murdock looked up at the Colonel and saw him nod.

"I think we can make an exception and let you use the phone for a personal call this once. Anything else you want to ask or tell me?" Hannibal leveled his gaze on the younger man.

He knew his Lieutenant struggled with being able to trust others. The real Face was hidden inside several layers of masks. He hadn't realized similarly there was another world inside of Murdock that no one got to see. One with secrets that couldn't remain hidden much longer.

He watched as Murdock wrestled with his inner demons, opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. "Nothin' I can think of right now, Colonel." He forced a tight smile onto his face.

_You're not fooling me one bit, Captain. Sooner or later you have to trust us with it. _

Hannibal gave him one more analyzing gaze, then looked at his Sergeant. "I'll have B. A. help you out there after supper."

"Please, Colonel. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, could I do it now? Not very hungry anyways 'n' Cyndy's got the kitchen under control." His eyes darted toward Cynthia, up at B. A. and then back to Hannibal. "Please?"

The black man nodded his agreement to Hannibal and the Colonel relented.

"Go and talk to your girl. I'll send B. A. out to help you back in after supper."


	14. Chapter 14 Sleeping Arrangements

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 14 Sleeping Arrangements

After their midnight supper, Hannibal and Face agreed that because both vehicles had likely been seen in the theater parking lot, it might not be safe driving Cynthia to her apartment so late at night. Sleeping arrangements for the four men and the lady would be awkward at best.

"No need to do too much switchin' 'round, guys. I can stay down here on the couch. It ain't that bad sleepin' on," Murdock insisted. "'N' if B. A.'s snorin gets too loud upstairs . . . " He held up his hands in surrender as the Sergeant narrowed his eyes at him and growled. "Jus' sayin' you sometimes saw 'nough logs to build a Texas-sized treehouse. Like I was sayin', I could sleep out in the van. It ain't _that_ uncomfortable."

Hannibal frowned. He did not relish the idea of Murdock sleeping anywhere alone with the nightmares and sleepwalking he was doing. At the same time, letting him sleep on the couch did make sense. The outhouse would be nearer to him and he wouldn't have to travel up and down stairs to eat meals or go to the theater with the rest of them.

"If anyone sleeps out in the van, it's gonna be _me_, sucka! It's my ride. 'Sides, I can tinker on it into the night without disturbin' anyone's sleep. 'N' I ain't the only one snores 'round here." B. A. gave both Hannibal and Murdock accusing glances. He crossed his arms in front of him, a sign that at least _his_ mind was made up.

"Then Cynthia gets the room you and Hannibal were in. Well, Colonel? Top or bottom bunk? Or do we flip a coin for the bottom?" Face gave Hannibal a dazzling smile, hoping the Colonel would take the top bunk voluntarily.

"With rank comes privilege, kid. You get the top." Hannibal returned his smile. His meant that the arrangements were settled and there would be no questions.

"Ooooh, Faceman, you get to be closer to the stars. That's why I always liked the top bunk when I was growin' up." Murdock grinned from his makeshift hospital bed on the couch.

Cynthia glanced at him, concern on her face. "Did you ever figure out why your father was chasing us, H. M.?"

The grin on Murdock's face immediately disappeared and he flashed her a grim look. Hannibal couldn't be sure but he thought he saw a flicker of fear in the Captain's eyes. He shifted his position on the couch and gasped with pain at the awkward quick movement.

"Whattya mean, lil' sister?" B. A. frowned, looking at Cynthia and then Murdock.

"H. M.'s father was there at the restaurant with Hollis. They _both_ ran after H. M. I'm not sure but before we went off the road, I thought I saw two people in that truck. Didn't he tell you?"

"What about it, Captain?" Hannibal tried to make eye contact, hopeful that Murdock would finally confirm the information Mrs. Bartleman had told them. Maybe once the demon memories were released, the Captain could have a peaceful night's sleep. And they all would know what and who to watch out for.

The pilot stared down at his fingers as he picked at imaginary lint on the blanket. "It could've been him," he reluctantly mumbled, "but I haven't seen 'im for so long I coulda been wrong."

Hannibal shook his head in disappointment.

"You _told_ me it was him. You were _positive_." Cynthia knelt in front of the couch, gazing into his eyes.

"Drop it, Cyndy!" He shouted at her with such venomous force she flinched. Her horrified look and the surprise on the faces of his friends was too much for him. He ran both hands through his hair and closed his eyes to block them all out.

Memories of his father rose in his mind; his slurred enraged voice shouted in his ears. He knew he was slipping into the past. The pressure of seeing his father again and their prodding pushed him too far for him to stop it from happening. His palms clapped over his ears to shut out his father's voice.

_I'm gonna kill ya, boy! Firs' chance I get. Mark my words, boy. Yer dead. _

He forced himself to take deep breaths like Dani taught him. He tried to envision his father being defeated by some of his favorite superheroes, The Fantastic Four or Superman, but it was no use. They weren't real and his father was.

The deep breathing made him light-headed, helped him focus. He lowered his hands when the threatening voice faded and all he could hear was his own breaths. As soon as he removed his hands Cynthia's frightened muffled sobs replaced the voice.

"Don' care what you say, Hannibal. Crazy man went too far yellin' at the lil' lady like that. Crazy ain't a excuse for that."

Murdock cringed at the anger in B. A.'s voice. His father's image and the Sergeant's furious voice blended into one. His stomach knotted up and every muscle in his body tightened for what his mind told him was coming.

Instinctively he rolled over onto his side, his back to all of them, and curled up, ignoring the sharp pain from his bruised ribs. He shielded his face with both arms and waited for the worst of the assault to come and be done.

While he waited for the first blow, he hummed "This Old Man" under his breath. Any louder and he knew the beating would be worse. Every time his father was granted visiting rights and they were left alone, it happened the same way. So he hummed, thinking the words in his head instead of singing them.

When no blows fell, he began to relax and soon fell asleep.

"What do you think of that, Hannibal?" Face muttered, his arms around Cynthia, his hand absently stroking her hair to comfort her.

"Man's comin' unglued, Colonel." B. A. stared in disbelief at what his words caused. "He never did that before. Knows I'd never do anythin'. Doesn' he?" He turned to Hannibal.

"I don't know _what_ to think. All we have is Mrs. Bartleman's word about the home life, and remember, she was telling us things from the school records she saw when she had him in her class. It's second or third hand information at best." Hannibal stared at the sleeping pilot for a few minutes.

"Same thing I saw when I watched him that night in the motel." B. A. glanced at Hannibal. "But he was havin' nightmares that night. This is when he's wide 'wake."

"So do we take turns watching him during the night, Hannibal, or what?" Face asked, his concern causing Cynthia to look up at him.

The Colonel considered and shook his head. "No. That injury should keep him relatively immobilized for the night. If he moves around very much, the pain should wake him."

"I hope you're right," Face muttered, holding Cynthia closer.


	15. Chapter 15 A Father's Hatred

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 15 A Father's Hatred

The next morning Hannibal came downstairs to the smell of fresh coffee and bacon and eggs frying. On the chair beside the vacant couch, he saw a towel and a clear plastic bag with melting ice cubes in it. The aspirin bottle was open. The folded army blanket lay on top of the two pillows at the end of the couch.

"Murdock," he muttered and shook his head.

"Yes, Colonel?" The pilot's voice came from behind him. When he turned, Murdock held out a cup of hot coffee. "Want some?"

"What part of the phrase 'bed rest' did you not understand, Captain?" Hannibal was trying hard to be stern but he knew his Captain too well. Telling Murdock he couldn't move around was akin to telling him he couldn't figure out how to fly aircraft that had improved technology. He would find a way.

"Well . . . " Murdock's eyes glinted with a hint of humor. "_Technically _speakin', the couch ain't a real bed. 'Sides, I iced up my ribs 'fore I even started breakfast 'n' took three or four aspirin. So I should be good. Only hurts when I breathe, sneeze, cough, laugh, etcetra, etcetra." He grinned.

Hannibal scrutinized the pilot from head to toe. He remembered the outburst and reaction to B. A.'s response from the previous night and had a difficult time believing that he was looking at the same person. "Let's at least go sit down. I want to talk to you in private before the rest come in here."

There was that look again, the disappearing smile, the shadow of fear in Murdock's eyes. This time there was no mistaking it. Then it was gone. The younger man shrugged and smiled, gesturing toward the already set kitchen table.

_You've been around Face too much, kid. You're putting on as good of a bluff as he puts on most of the time. _

"Jus' let me get a cuppa coffee 'n' settle in. These chairs ain't very comfortable but Gramma didn't believe in sittin' 'n' chewin' the fat for long periods of time either." He poured himself some coffee from the pot and turned the cook stove down to its lowest flame to keep the coffee hot. Setting his cup on the table, he returned to the stove.

"Want some bacon 'n' eggs? Get 'em while they're hot." Without waiting for an answer, he used the spatula to scoop four fried eggs and four slices of bacon onto a plate. He brought them to the table and carefully lowered himself into the wooden chair. An involuntary groan escaped him as his eyes squeezed shut.

Hannibal made himself a mental note to order Murdock to _rest on the couch _after breakfast until rehearsal that night. He helped himself to two eggs and a strip of bacon but waited to eat.

"Mind telling me what that was all about last night, Captain? And before you try to act innocent like you don't know what I'm talking about . . . " he began.

"Oh, I have a real good idea what you're talkin' 'bout," Murdock stared into his coffee cup, the muscles in his jaw twitching with his tension.

"And?"

"What's between my Pa 'n' me doesn't affect the mission. He's after _me_, no one else. Y'all need to worry 'bout Hollis 'n' _his_ Pa, not mine." He took a gulp of coffee and poked at his egg.

"If he injures or kills you, it _does_ affect the mission. We need a live Hotspur, not a dead one." Hannibal frowned and looked away. "And the team needs you."

Murdock snorted. "Long as you don' kiss me on the forehead 'n' call me a good lil' boy, I'll accept that."

"I promise I'll never do that, Captain." The pilot glanced at Hannibal and saw his eyes twinkled with amusement. "Why is he after you?"

Murdock set his fork down and leaned back in his chair, wincing as he did. He gave the Colonel a searching look. "You ever been 'round a mean drunk, Colonel? I'm not jus' talkin' a drunk who gets a little mad 'n' then passes out. I'm talkin' _mean._"

"That's what your father is?"

He nodded and took another gulp of coffee. "My Ma put up with it 'til she knew she was pregnant. She asked my Gramma 'n' Grampa, her Ma 'n' Pa, for shelter. Took her a while to be convinced to file for divorce. I was born jus' after it was finalized. Divorce was a shameful thing back then. Pa hated her for it. My Ma thought she'd rub salt in the wounds by givin' me the initials H. M. 'n' her maiden name. H. M., Harley McKeever, my Pa's name." As he spoke, Murdock watched Hannibal's eyes.

"That's not enough reason to come after you, is it?" The Colonel put a forkful of egg in his mouth, chewed and swallowed while the pilot thought about his answer.

"At first all he was after was her. He looked all peaches 'n' cream comin' in front of the judge when they were decidin' stuff like visitation. Judge thought he was no threat so he got to visit me here at the farmhouse. Ma didn't tell the judge 'bout him beatin' her before. She was scared. He was my father. Fathers oughta love their kids, right?" He stared down at the floor and swallowed hard.

"Take your time. I'm listening."

"My first memory of Pa was when I was four. He came to give me a birthday gift, he said. Took me for a walk out to the barn. It was in a small brown bag, had a picture of a buncha grapes on the front of it. He took the bottle, uncapped it and gave it to me 'fore Ma or Gramma or Grampa came to find us."

Hannibal's eyes were steely blue as he asked the question. "Wine?"

"His idea of a gift. Half the bottle gone 'fore Ma found us. She came after him, hit him, scratched him. But even drunk, he was stronger. He hurt her bad, woulda killed her if I hadn't grabbed a pitchfork 'n' poked him in the leg. I didn't do much harm 'cause I was only four 'n' the pitchfork was bigger'n me. That was the first time he put me in the hospital." The food on Murdock's plate was already cold. He used his fork to scrape at the congealed egg yolk.

"He still had visitation rights after that?" Hannibal raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Always cleaned himself up for court. Looked like a decent, respectable father wantin' to see his boy." He shrugged and gave the Colonel a bitter smile. Then he turned his head away so Hannibal couldn't see his face very well. In a whisper, he said, "Then Ma died."

"He killed her?" Hannibal asked, surprised.

"No. She got pneumonia, Gramma said. I don't 'member anythin' but the hospital 'n' her so weak in bed. He went to court, tried to get me away from Gramma 'n' Grampa, couldn't get it done. Started waitin' for me after school, Fridays usually. When I got a job, he rolled me for my paychecks. Last time was jus' before graduation, jus' 'bout killed me. I got outta here soon as I could so Gramma 'n' Grampa'd be safe." He drained his coffee cup, nodded at Hannibal's cup and asked, "Want a warm up on that?"

When Hannibal shook his head, the pilot rose slowly to his feet with the help of the table in front of him and poured himself another cup. "If ya don' mind, I think I'll stand. Easier than sittin' back down. 'Sides, the others'll be here pretty soon. Better be ready to make more eggs 'n' bacon."

"Captain?" Hannibal gazed up at the pilot.

"Colonel?" Murdock answered, his face solemn.

"Thank you for trusting me. Now I want you to rest on the _couch_ until rehearsal tonight. Let me reheat your breakfast. I can cook for the others."

The Captain smirked. "Beg pardon, Colonel, but I've tasted your cookin'. I'd sooner trust you with my life story."


	16. Chapter 16 Return To the Stage

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 16 Return To the Stage

Hannibal and B. A. were already at the theater and Face was parking the Corvette after letting Murdock and Cynthia off at the door. Upon B. A.'s insistence, Cynthia had her El Camino towed out to the farmstead. The burly mechanic had tinkered with the vehicle all day to repair damage from the accident. Until the truck was fixed, Face would be picking her up and dropping her off at her apartment.

When the couple entered the theater, the cast and crew stopped what they were doing and applauded.

"They're clappin' for us 'n' we didn' _do_ anythin' but show up." Murdock smiled down at his leading lady. He took his cap off with a flourish and nodded to the group on the stage before replacing it on his head. They gave him another round of applause. Mrs. Bartleman applauded loudest of all and started toward them.

"Are you sure you're going to be alright rehearsing tonight?" Cynthia noticed his rigid posture and the small grimaces he made with each movement.

"'Course I am. I gotta be. The show must go on." He frowned at her. "You gonna be alright?"

Before she could answer him, Murdock found himself on the receiving end of an overjoyed welcoming hug. The sudden pressure against his ribs forced a painful groan to his lips. He clenched his teeth to block it and tried to disengage himself from Mrs. Bartleman's arms.

"I was so worried you wouldn't be able to return." The theater owner stepped back, her hands gripping him by the elbows, her face glowing with excitement. "Now that my Hotspur has come back, we can resume rehearsal." She gave him another enthusiastic hug and bustled back to the stage.

Cynthia saw the pilot turn two shades paler. She reached out to take his arm and lead him to a seat. He eased himself down and leaned back, his hand automatically clutching the bruised area, his other hand brushing away her attention. "She didn' know, Cyndy, she didn' know. I'll be fine."

Face came in, carrying a small ice chest and a bottle of aspirin. Seeing Murdock in obvious pain and Cyndy holding his hand, he hurried to them.

"What happened?" he asked in alarm.

Murdock's eyes were closed against the pain but he attempted a smile. "An overly joyful stage director happened. She's jus' glad to see us."

"Temp, I think H. M.'s going to need one of those ice packs." Face opened the cooler and handed Cyndy a plastic bag full of ice.

"I'll go explain things to Mrs. Bartleman." The Lieutenant gave Cynthia the aspirin bottle and headed to the stage where the director was assembling the cast for act one, scene one. Murdock gingerly held the bag of ice to his abdomen.

"Couldya bring back a glass of water, Faceman?" To the young lady beside him he muttered, "If she wasn't a client 'n' my old high school teacher, I could file assault charges 'gainst her."

"Seriously, H. M., are you sure you can handle this? The scenes where you don't have to move much are one thing, but you have the sword fight to do, too. And no understudy to take your place."

"Now, lil' lady, that sorta says it all, doesn't it? I'm irreplaceable . . . in that area. I'm gonna have to handle it." He paused. "You 'n' Face stayed up kinda late last night, didn' you?" He glanced at her out of half open eyes and noted the blush that sprang to her cheeks.

"We were talking. He's sweet." A flash of anger appeared in her eyes. "And it isn't your business, H. M. You have a girl."

Murdock had heard them on the veranda when he finally awoke from the childhood flashback to a darkened house. He lay there, worrying over Cyndy's innocence and Face's love-'em-'n'-leave-'em reputation, until the two made their way upstairs. The rest of his night was spent in restless nightmare-tossed spurts of sleep.

He tried to think of a way to give expression to his concern but Face arrived before he could find the words. The Captain shook four aspirins from the bottle Cynthia gave him, chewed them up and gulped down the entire glass of water.

_Why did I think it was such a good idea to get Face to romance Cyndy? 'Cause I didn' wanna hurt her myself. _He mentally kicked himself for asking his friend for help.

Still gripping the ice pack to his injured ribs, he stood. Maybe a bit too quickly, he told himself, as pain jolted through his abdomen and he wobbled on his feet. He gave Cynthia a hurt glance and Face a cold appraising stare before turning and walking toward the stage. "I gotta get to work," he muttered.

The Lieutenant settled into the seat beside Cynthia and took her hand in his, entwining their fingers together. He frowned at his friend as he left them. "Now what do you think _that _was all about?"

Cynthia watched Murdock as he took a seat in the front row beside Hannibal and B. A. She shook her head, painfully aware of the sadness she felt in her heart. She was sure now that Murdock felt it, too, in his own heart.

The first two scenes of the first act went smoothly. The actors had their lines memorized and Mrs. Bartleman was in the process of blocking or planning their movements around the stage.

The third scene was Hotspur's first appearance and Murdock brought fire to the lines. Even Mrs. Bartleman was surprised at the angry passion in his voice.

When the actor who played Hotspur's uncle, Thomas Percy, Duke of Worcester, said, "'Farewell, kinsman. I will talk to you when you are better temper'd to attend.'" he reacted as much to Murdock's tone as to the scripted words.

And when the act and scene concluded with Hotspur's statement "'Uncle, adieu. O let the hours be short, Till fields, and blows, and groans, applaud our sport!'" the entire company of players was quiet for several seconds. Murdock stalked off the stage ahead of the others and didn't come back for the surprised applause from the rest of the theater group. A minute passed and the pilot did not reappear.

"Where'd he go, Hannibal? People clappin', gotta be for him. Didn' know the crazyman was that good. Gonna go drag him out here for his fans." The Colonel nodded and B. A. stood and walked backstage.

The ice pack with its melting cubes sat on a chair by the back exit. A quick glance around showed him that Murdock had disappeared out the rear door.

For what reason, B. A. didn't know but he determined to find out.


	17. Chapter 17 Corvettes and Friendship

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 17 Corvettes and Friendship

As B. A. neared the back door to the theater, he noticed it was ajar.

_Fool prob'ly needed some air. _

Picking up the ice pack from the chair, he pushed the door open and stepped out into the theater parking lot.

_Somethin's not right. _

Keeping his eyes open, he scanned the area for signs of Murdock. Nothing.

Even though he did not see the pilot, he was certain Face would not have parked his Corvette so close to the theater's dumpster.

As he neared the car, he noted the large dent in the passenger's side door.

_Whoo boy! Faceman ain't gonna be happy 'bout this! Dumpster's not jus' close. It's jus' 'bout parked inside the 'Vette. _

He dropped the ice pack and gripped the edges of the dumpster to roll it back from the car door.

"B. A.?" His name was said almost in a low groan.

"Murdock? Where are you, man?"

Another moan answered him and he began to search the area around the car for the pilot.

He found Murdock behind the dumpster. Curled up on the paved surface of the parking lot, the Captain hugged his ribs tightly with his arms. His breaths were short, taken in through gritted teeth.

"Jus' get me up, Big Guy, 'kay?" He gazed up at B. A. with a pleading look in his clouded eyes and held out one arm.

B. A. hesitated and glanced back at the rear door. "You stay here. I'm gonna get Hannibal."

"No!" Murdock attempted to get up and slumped with his back to the dumpster. "Jus' give me that ice pack 'n' I'll be fine. More'n I can say for Face's 'Vette."

The black man bent and handed the pilot the plastic bag but refused to take his arm to lift him up. "Sit there," he growled, "while I go get help. I don' know how bad you're hurt."

In a few minutes Hannibal hurried with B. A. back stage toward the parking lot. Before they could reach the rear stage door, it opened.

"Thought I tol' you to stay put!" B. A. scowled and threw Murdock's arm around his shoulders to support him.

"Tol' _you _I'd be fine. Jus' get me somewhere I can sit down for a few minutes." With Hannibal on one side and B. A. on the other, the trio made their way out to the front row seats of the theater. Murdock settled into one of the seats and fought to control the wave of dizziness washing over him.

Mrs. Bartleman's face paled when she saw his condition. Cynthia and Face rushed toward the small group clustered around him.

Hannibal checked his ribs again while Murdock told the group what happened. "I heard a loud metal on metal type bang from outside. Thought I'd better find out what it was. Didn' get a good look at 'em 'fore they had me on the ground." He stiffened and sucked in his breath as Hannibal pressed in on his abdomen. "Gotta stop doin' this. Ribs can't take much more."

Hannibal stood and glared down at Murdock before turning to Mrs. Bartleman. "Mind if I address the group?"

Her eyes were wide and she gaped at the injured man before nodding.

The Colonel got up on stage. "Listen up. All of you need to keep your eyes and ears open for anything out of the ordinary you notice happening between now and the closing night of the performance. If you see anything, you tell one of us or Mrs. Bartleman. The person wanting to close this theater down is serious. This proves it. If you leave the building, take a friend with you. No one should be alone in the theater or the parking lot. Got that?"

He scanned the group with flinty unsmiling eyes and was satisfied to see many of the cast and crew nodding in agreement.

"Good." He left the stage to sit with Murdock. "Mrs. Bartleman? It's all yours."

The theater owner patted Murdock on the shoulder. "You let me know if you need to rest at any time when we're rehearsing, dear."

The Captain nodded, his eyes closed. "I'll do that."

"Alright. Act two, scene one. The carriers, inn chamberlain and Gadshill should be off stage, waiting for their entrances. Let's resume rehearsal, everyone."

As the actors moved around the stage and spoke their lines, Murdock cast a guilty glance at Face. "Sorry 'bout the 'Vette, Faceman. Didn' get there in time to stop 'em."

"My car? What about my car?" The Lieutenant gripped his friend by both shoulders.

B. A. scowled down at Face, watching to make sure his actions weren't causing the pilot any pain. "Dumpster hit the side door. Pretty good dent. Needs some body work."

"Oh, that's just great! First Cyndy's truck and now my car. How many vehicles are they going to trash?" Face's voice rose and the nearest crew members turned and shushed him. He stood and unconsciously swiped a hand through his hair.

"Sorry," Murdock mumbled. Cynthia handed him the ice pack and he absently tucked it under his jacket and against his ribs. "If I coulda stopped 'em, I woulda."

He frowned as Face strode up the center aisle toward the theater's front door. "Better go with 'im, Big Guy. Don' know who might be out there."

Cynthia sank into the seat beside Murdock as B. A. followed Face. "Is he usually this concerned about his Corvette?"

He considered her question, realized how easy it would be to paint Face as a totally self-absorbed womanizer. He knew how much Cyndy hated guys like that. Wasn't that one of the reasons she despised Hollis?

He decided against it and shrugged. "He's had that car for a while. First thing he bought after the first mission we did that paid anythin'. See, he never thought in a bazillion years he'd ever own anythin' like that growin' up an orphan like he did. I can see why he's upset."

"But it wasn't your fault and he's almost acting like it was." Cynthia's hazel eyes softened and she gently clasped his hand. "Doesn't that bother you?"

Murdock swallowed. "Naw, he's jus' lettin' off steam." He removed his hand from hers and stared straight forward at the actors on the stage, hoping she would drop the subject before he said something he shouldn't.

"You seem to be a better friend to him than he is to you right now."

"That's not fair and it ain't true. He's the best friend I have, Cyndy. I can cut him some slack 'cause we've been through hell together. He'd do the same for me." He shifted in the seat and shuddered at the piercing pain that resulted. For a few moments he focused on his breathing. Each breath seemed to cause a new spasm. His eyes closed tight and he gripped the arms of the theater seat.

Then Hannibal was kneeling beside him. "They must have injured you more seriously than you're letting on. When B. A. gets back in here, I'm telling him to take you home. Rest on the couch for the remainder of the evening. I'll let Mrs. Bartleman know."

When Murdock began to protest, the Colonel said in his most authoritative voice, "That's an order, Captain."


	18. Chapter 18 The Clearing

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 18 The Clearing

Murdock had fallen into a troubled sleep by the time Face and Hannibal finally returned to the farmhouse from Nederland.

B. A. met them at the door. "Murdock's in a lotta pain. Aspirin ain't touchin' it and icin' numbs it, don't take it 'way. I was talkin' to him, he was beggin' me to look in your bag for the knock-out juice and a syringe to give it to him."

"You didn't, did you?" Face looked at the black man in front of him and then anxiously toward the couch. The Colonel had drawn up a chair and sat watching the Captain, worry in his expression.

"I was tempted, if justa make sure Hannibal don't use it on me no more. But no, I didn't." B. A. glanced at the sleeping man. "I'm goin' up to bed now you guys're here. If ya need any help wit' 'im, wake me up."

Face nodded and walked over to Hannibal. Placing one hand on the older man's shoulder, he spoke. "I can watch him for now." When the Colonel shook his head, Face said, "Rank has its privileges, remember? I kind of owe it to him."

He looked up at Face, the weariness showing around his eyes. "Okay, kid. I'll spell you in about four hours. Come get me when it's time."

The Lieutenant took the seat Hannibal vacated. At first, every moan, every restless movement Murdock made snapped Face out of the light doze he fell into. Eventually the light doze became a deeper sleep.

"Lieutenant!" Hannibal's voice woke him from that sleep when the atmosphere in the old farmhouse was graying from the pre-dawn light. "Where's Murdock?"

The question woke him up completely and he stared with uncomprehending eyes at the blanket half on and half off the empty couch. A light breeze came through the open farmhouse door.

"Where is he, Lieutenant?"

Face shook his head, his mouth gaping open trying to find words to apologize for his inattentiveness.

Hannibal headed for the open door and shot an order over his shoulder as he went. "Go get B. A. There's no telling where he might have gone."

Face bolted up the steps two at a time and burst into the bedroom B. A. occupied with Hannibal. With Cynthia not staying at the farmhouse, the sleeping arrangements had returned almost to what they were.

"B. A. You have to get up. Murdock's missing." Ordinarily Face would not have shaken the Sergeant awake, even if he were offered an all-expense paid cruise to Hawaii with the lady of his choice to do it. But this was an emergency. He flinched backward when B. A. woke and his disoriented eyes threatened violence.

Then his expression cleared and he wiped his eyes to clear them of sleep. "Repeat that, Faceman."

"Murdock's missing. The Colonel says to come and help us find him."

B. A. was already pulling on socks, shoes and overalls when Face left the room and hurried downstairs.

Once outside he allowed his eyes to adjust to the light difference before stepping off the veranda. He could hear Hannibal calling Murdock's name from somewhere by the barn. Looking around at his surroundings, Face felt his spirits sink when he realized how many places his friend could have gone.

_This is almost as bad as if he got lost in Los Angeles. Think, Peck. What do you remember him talking about? _

Face closed his eyes, trying to remember. When he opened them again, he knew where to look first and headed toward a small clearing in the grove of trees at the far end of the pasture.

_If I'm right, I'm not sure what I'm going to find. _

He picked up his pace and by the time he came to the edge of the tree line, he was running. Finding the clearing was a little more difficult but the search was made easier by the trampled down weeds on the trail leading to it.

"Over here, B. A., Colonel!"

Face took a deep breath and held it as he quietly followed the path. When he got to the clearing he exhaled and sagged in relief.

Hannibal was the next to arrive with B. A. close behind him. Face held up his hand to keep them from going further.

Murdock slept curled up on the grass, one arm bent and pillowing his head. His other hand rested on a large flat stone within a foot of where he lay. The bruise on his face from Hollis's attack during the audition contrasted sharply with the paleness of his skin. He shivered with each breath. As Face watched, a tear quivered on the bridge of his nose before splashing to the ground.

"Hannibal. The name on that stone." B. A.'s voice was a low growl.

The Colonel put up a gloved hand to quiet him. "Face, you know him better than any of us. Do you think you can get him awake without causing him to panic?" His eyes did not leave the sleeping man in front of them.

"Are you sure you want him to wake up now? He never told me why this place was so special to him. I almost feel like we'd be violating his privacy . . . " Face argued but saw from Hannibal's expression that the argument was futile. "Well, at least let him think I'm the only one who knows for now."

"Faceman's right, Colonel. You said let the crazyman tell us hisself in his own time." B. A. turned and retreated back the way he came, then turned and glared at Hannibal. "You comin'?"

The Colonel's expression was grim as he stared down at the grass at his feet and nodded. "Do what you can, Lieutenant." Then he was gone, quickening his pace as he left the clearing.

Face gazed at the stone. Murdock's outstretched hand touched the edges of the worn hand-chiseled lettering. It was as if he had traced the words and numbers with his fingers before falling back to sleep.

The Lieutenant sighed. "Murdock? Buddy? Time to wake up."

The pilot's face tightened with a spasm of pain. Face couldn't tell if it was physical or emotional. His eyes opened and stared unfocused at the stone beside him. His hand caressed the hard surface before clenching into a fist. "Billy," he whispered before closing his eyes again.


	19. Chapter 19 Billy's Story

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 19 Billy's Story

Face tried a second time to wake Murdock, calling his name a little louder

This time the Captain's eyes opened and focused on his friend. Looking around at his surroundings, he turned to lay flat on his back and groaned, one arm slung over his face.

"So now you know." The statement rasped out of him. He let a brittle laugh escape and immediately winced with the pain it caused.

"What do I know? I find you sleeping in this clearing almost wrapped around what looks to be a gravestone. I see the words 'Billy Murdock, Infant Son' and the date 1951. What am I supposed to know from that?" Face sat down carefully on the grass beside his friend and waited for a response. His tan gabardine twill pants may become grass-stained but right now this was more important.

"If you can't figure out what it means . . . " The injured man sighed.

"Explain it to me. Please, buddy. You're having as bad of nightmares as you had at any time after Nam and you're sleepwalking. Is this part of the reason?" Face gestured toward the flat dark stone.

For several minutes the only sound was the harsh short breaths Murdock was taking to control his emotions.

"Nobody ever knew. It was a dirty little secret my Ma and Grampa and Gramma kept. Woulda come out if she'd escaped this area, got out 'fore Pa knew. Oh God, Face . . . " Murdock's trembling increased but he kept his arm over his eyes.

"I still don't understand." The Lieutenant reached out to touch the pilot on the arm but Murdock jerked away from him.

"I tol' Hannibal only part of it. How could I tell anyone all of it when it was a secret? Didn't even tell my shrink. Only ones know now're my Pa 'n' me. My Pa 'n' me . . . " Face heard the confused panic in his friend's voice.

Murdock attempted to sit up and sank back to the ground with a spasm of pain and a groan. "Not doin' so good here, Face. Might hafta go get the Big Guy to help me get to the house."

"If I do that, they'll see the stone and you'll have to explain to all of us. Do you want that?" Face watched his friend's reaction. Did Murdock realize they had already seen it?

The heavy sigh and small nod told Face all he needed as an answer to both questions. He scrambled to his feet and hurried to the house to get Hannibal and B. A.

When the three men reappeared in the clearing, they discovered Murdock had found a way to sit up. Wheezing with the effort, his face was buried in folded arms resting atop bent knees.

B. A. and Hannibal glanced at the stone and then at the pilot.

Without looking up at them, Murdock muttered, "Hannibal, B. A., Face, this here's my baby brother Billy. Two months old when he was killed."

"You never said anything about sisters or brothers." The Colonel stated it as a fact but it sounded more like a question.

When he glared up at them, they could see torment in his red-rimmed eyes. "Billy didn't exist, not on paper. Home birth. Never reported."

"How is that possible?" Face wondered. "I mean, didn't anyone see your mother was expecting? When she wasn't pregnant anymore, weren't there questions?"

Murdock shook his head, closed his eyes and laughed softly to himself. It was an eerie sound in the midst of that clearing. B. A. frowned, glanced at Hannibal with uncertainty on his face, wondering what new kind of crazy this was.

"Still don't get it? Gramma 'n' Grampa was protectin' Ma 'n' me 'til she could move on. She was tryin' to 'n' Billy's father was gonna help her. She stayed to home, didn't go into town at all. Pa found out she was expectin' 'fore she could leave." He looked at each of his friends in turn, seeing the surprise, searching their faces for the rejection he was sure would come.

Face was the first to make a move. His expression mirroring the pain in Murdock's eyes, he sat down on the grass beside him and placed his hand on his friend's shoulder.

Hannibal stared at the ground, his features set in stony silence. B. A. clenched his fists but otherwise showed no emotion.

The pilot sought eye contact with the Colonel. "That first time he put me in the hospital? He beat Ma so bad she went into labor. When I took the pitchfork to 'im, he beat on me. Gramma was a sometimes midwife 'round these parts. By the time I was sent home from the hospital, Billy was a week old. Pa laid low for a while after that, thought he did 'way with the baby." He covered his face with his hands and muttered, "He should never have found out 'bout Billy bein' alive. Wouldn't a if I hadn' let on."

"You were only, what? Four years old? How can a four year old be expected to keep a secret like that?" Face stared at the grass at his feet as he murmured the words.

"I determined in my heart to never tell secrets 'gain no matter what happened to me. You wanna know why the VC couldn't break me? That's why. People die when you tell secrets. Wasn' gonna make the same mistake like with Billy." The last word was almost a whisper.

All three men flinched. The memories of their friend being returned after hours, even days, of torture assaulted each man's mind as fresh as it were yesterday. The bruises and bleeding wounds, the dislocated joints, broken bones, none of those compared to the signs of the internal damage that put him in the psych ward. Now they knew why the emotional trauma was harder on him than any of the rest of them, and the knowledge nauseated and enraged each man.

Murdock's hand strayed over to the stone, rested on it as he stared mutely into his own past.

"Are you tellin' us your own Pa killed your brotha?" B. A. broke the silence, his voice gruff against the emotions stirring him.

The Captain gazed at him, still seeing the past through unfocused eyes. With a start, he realized what the black man was asking and hesitated before nodding. "Pa didn' want any survivors from the divorce. He's pure hate 'n' evil wrapped up in the body of a drunk. I'm the last one who knows."

"Now we know, too. Drunken fool ain't gonna touch you no more, if I got anythin' to say 'bout it," B. A. growled.

"Same here, buddy. We got your back on this." Face carefully turned and knelt to establish eye contact. That would mean more grass stains on the knees of his pants but it couldn't be helped. "That's a promise." As Murdock's shoulders shook with long-repressed emotions, Face pulled him into a comforting embrace.

"That goes for me, too. We don't leave our own to fight their battles alone. Now are you ready to come back to the house, Captain?" Hannibal asked in a gentle tone. "Or do you need a few more minutes?"

Murdock looked up and nodded grimly, still shaking. "I'm ready."

B. A. bent to help him to his feet. Face moved to his other side and drew his arm over his shoulders. Murdock gasped as he stood and almost went limp in their arms.

"Hurts real bad," he whispered. "Might not make it to rehearsal tonight, Colonel."

He slipped from their grasp and fell to his knees before slumping forward onto the grass.


	20. Chapter 20 Healing the Body

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

AN: Taping or wrapping bruised, cracked or broken ribs is no longer a recommended treatment. Patients are supposed to breathe deeply at least once each hour to avoid pneumonia and taping or wrapping doesn't allow for that. Since this story is set in the mid-80s and Hannibal's field experience would allow for taping and wrapping I included it. The end of this chapter is partially inspired by the lyrics to "Black Swan Song" by Athlete.

Chapter 20 Healing the Body

B. A. carefully laid Murdock on the couch and stood back as Face spread the army blanket over him. The Lieutenant knelt and squeezed his friend's hand. He touched the chilled fingers to his forehead and said a silent prayer for healing he remembered from his childhood.

Not until Hannibal gripped his shoulder did Face notice he had come up behind him. "Let him rest, kid. He needs sleep to get better."

The Lieutenant nodded. "Sleep heals his body but what's going to heal his soul?"

"I don't know," Hannibal responded with a weariness to his voice Face had not noticed before.

The three men found seats around the kitchen table and sat in the quiet of the farmhouse listening to the pilot's ragged breathing. Face kept glancing over toward the sleeping man and worrying over the pallor he saw. In the dim light of the farmhouse, the bruise on Murdock's face was a black splotch.

"So now what, Colonel? Crazyman can't rehearse hurtin' that bad." B. A. lowered his voice and followed Face's gaze.

"I don't think we can stop him. When he has a job to do, you know he'll do anything to complete it." Hannibal rubbed the bridge of his nose with one hand. "So we make sure that during the day, he lays down and stays put, and during the night, he doesn't sleepwalk." He looked directly at Face. "And we make sure we don't fall asleep on our watch."

Face flinched and looked down at his hands. Hannibal was right, of course. He'd dropped the ball falling asleep like he did but it forced Murdock to reveal some secrets he might never have told anyone. Lousy way for it to happen, though.

B. A. grunted his agreement. "I'm still workin' on Cyndy's El Camino but I'll take my turn watchin' 'im, makin' sure he don't go nowhere."

Face raised his hands to excuse himself. "I have to take Mrs. Bartleman to two interviews today but I can come back in between times and keep him company." _And this time, I'll move mountains to keep him on the mend. _

"Good. Tonight before he rehearses, we make sure he uses his ice pack. We wrap his ribs just before he goes onstage. Face, on the way back from Nederland, stop and get more ice and some maximum strength painkillers. That and rest is the only way he's going to get through the rehearsals and performances." Hannibal glanced over to the couch as Murdock shifted position and whimpered with the pain. "I'll make us all some breakfast."

Face and B. A. looked at each other. "Uh, Colonel, you can't go wrong with cold cereal and milk. Just a suggestion." Face smiled at his CO.

"What does everyone have against my cooking?" Hannibal grumbled.

Murdock slept until almost noon. He woke to the sight of B. A. sitting in the chair beside the couch staring at him.

"Ain't you s'posed to be fixin' Cyndy's truck?"

No answer.

"I don' need a babysitter, ya know." He threw the blanket back only to have it put back in place by a silent and insistent Sergeant.

"Aw, c'mon, B. A.! I gotta get up 'n' use the lil' boys' room. 'Sides, you keep lookin' at me like that, you'll have me thinkin' I'm a museum exhibit."

"Hannibal says you take two o' these first. Don' chew 'em. They ain't aspirin." The muscular black man shook two tablets from a bottle, recapped it and offered a glass of orange juice.

Murdock swallowed the painkillers with a gulp of juice and handed the half full glass back.

"Down it, fool. You ain't leavin' that bed 'til you do," B. A. growled. He leaned back with satisfaction when he saw his orders being reluctantly followed.

"Happy? Can I get up now?" Murdock set his face into a pout. If he didn't know it would hurt too much, he would have crossed his arms as well.

"Not without help," B. A. grunted. "Here. Take it slow." The Sergeant peeled back the blanket and waited for the pilot to swing his legs over the edge of the makeshift bed. He winced when he noted the tremor that went through Murdock as he lifted himself into a sitting position. The pout was replaced by an agonized grimace.

_Man's too pale, hurtin' too bad. If I ever get holda the guys did this . . . _

B. A. sat beside the Captain, waiting for him to indicate when he was ready for the next step.

The pilot laid his head back, shutting his eyes, his breath coming in short pants. The black man placed one meaty hand on his shoulder, his fingers touching the collarbone, realizing how much thinner Murdock had gotten over the past week.

"You ready?" B. A. drew his hand away, uncomfortable with the discovery.

_Don' matter how many times the fool annoys me. Don' wanna see 'im hurtin' like this._

The injured man nodded and gave his aide a crooked smile. "Better now, when nature calls, than later. You 'n' me ain't gettin' any younger." He let the Sergeant gently place his arm over his muscular shoulders.

"Gonna lift you up now. I'll try to be careful." He slowly rose to his feet, gripping Murdock's hand and grasping him around the waist. B. A. gritted his teeth when he heard the soft gasp of pain escape the pilot's lips.

"Ready to walk?" He waited for the Captain's quick nod before helping him across to the door of the house and to the wooden outhouse in back.

When they got to the structure, Murdock reached for the door and leaned against the wall for a second. He smiled again. "'Preciate it, Big Guy. Ya don' have to follow me in there. I can manage."

"We get back to the house, you're gonna have somethin' to eat. Ya missed breakfast. Colonel's treat." B. A. smirked at the small groan he heard from inside the outhouse.

"Wish I coulda spared you 'n' Face that. Sorry."

"Can't be helped. 'Sides, even Hannibal can't ruin cold cereal, milk 'n' orange juice."

The door opened and the two men made their way back to the house. B. A. adjusted the pillows while Murdock sat down carefully. He sank back onto the couch with a groan and the black man covered him again with the blanket.

B. A. headed toward the kitchen counter where the bread, peanut butter and fruit was. "Want a peanut butter banana sandwich 'n' some milk?"

He paused and glanced back at Murdock. The pilot shook his head and closed his eyes. "Think I'd like to rest up a bit. Why don'tcha sit down 'n' talk to me 'til I fall 'sleep?"

"Hannibal said . . . "

"Well, the Colonel ain't here, is he? I'm more tired than hungry." The lines of pain in Murdock's face were already beginning to relax. A series of coughs shook his body and when he was through, he let his arm dangle weakly over the edge of the couch.

"Can't force feed you. But ya gotta eat sometime, man." B. A. reluctantly sat down in the chair.

"I will . . . later." Murdock seemed to be thinking of something, a frown appearing on his face. "Billy's real, you know."

"Guess I know that now. Why'd ya say he was a dog all this time? Don' make sense." The Sergeant stared down at his hands and mumbled, "You don' hafta answer. Jus' kinda wonderin', that's all."

He heard a small chuckle followed by a sharp breath. "Figured if I called my dog Billy it was a way to keep the real Billy's memory 'live. Invisible dog's easier to explain than an invisible lil' baby. 'Specially when it's a grown man imaginin' it. Don' have to change diapers either."

B. A. frowned at Murdock, wondering if the crazy man was serious, crazy or trying to annoy him. He found the Captain looking back at him with half-closed eyes and a solemn expression.

"Sometimes feels like my baby brother's lookin' down from Heaven cheerin' me on, tellin' me he 'n' Ma 'n' Grampa 'n' Gramma are waitin' for me." He yawned and closed his eyes. "Tells me how much I'm gonna like it where they are. Been hearin' 'im louder 'n' clearer past few days than I have for a long time." He drifted to sleep with a weak smile touching his lips.


	21. Chapter 21 Strength To the Weary

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

AN: The Bible verse Murdock remembers his grandmother quoting is Isaiah 40: 29-31.

Chapter 21 Strength to the Weary

When he came to relieve the Sergeant from his watch, Hannibal was surprised at how well B. A. and Murdock were getting along. Of course, when most of the injured man's day was spent in sleeping instead of talking, he didn't have much opportunity to irritate the burly mechanic.

Still, B. A. seemed to be more protective of Murdock now than ever before. Even when the Captain lay close to death with a bullet intended for Hannibal imbedded in his shoulder B. A. did not display this much protectiveness. Something had been said between them. Hannibal was certain of that but for now he wouldn't probe either man about it.

The Captain grudgingly accepted the doses of painkillers every four hours and drank down the full glass of milk or juice that accompanied them. Hannibal got him to eat a banana but only after he reminded him who the ranking officer was. By rehearsal time that night, he had not eaten anything but that.

"Jus' don' have much of a appetite, Colonel." Murdock paused at the door to the van. He leaned against the doorframe, realizing any movement to climb in would be accompanied by intense pain.

_Can't let the guys know, not when they're all dependin' on me. Jus' wish the pain'd go 'way. _

Hannibal was watching him. Murdock knew any grimace, any hesitation on his part and the Colonel would make him stay home.

The injured man also knew he couldn't do that. Mrs. Bartleman had already lost valuable rehearsal time after his encounter with Hollis and his friends in the theater parking lot. That his father was not with the group that damaged Face's Corvette worried Murdock.

_Never know when or where he's gonna show up. I'd be lucky if he crawled back to his bar stool 'n' gave up but I know he ain't gonna do that. Not 'til he's done what he needs to._

The thought sent a shudder through him.Opposing voices screamed at each other in his mind. He wished they'd stop. His head was beginning to ache from it.

_Your father's gonna keep you quiet for good. You know that. You can't hide forever. 'N' that's what Viet Nam was, wasn't it? 'Nother hidin' place._

_No! I enlisted to serve my country, not to run 'way. I'm not 'fraid of him! I'm not!_

_Then why're you visitin' Billy's grave? Why'd you run 'way when your Pa chased you at the cafe? You coulda taken both him 'n' Hollis. Or could you?_

_I was protectin' Cyndy._

_Yeah, right. Keep on believin' that, crazy fool. _

"Anything wrong, Captain?" Hannibal's icy blue eyes were scrutinizing him, looking for any crack in his armor, anything that would sideline him for the evening.

Murdock took a deep cleansing breath and felt the corresponding spasm of pain. He forced the grimace to become a grin instead. "No problemo, Colonel." He turned away from Hannibal, tried to hide his face as he got in.

_Jus' bend your knee, plant your foot 'n' lift yourself in. You done it a million times before. You'll be fine once you're in and sittin' down._

He gripped the seat and managed to boost himself and swivel. Collapsing into the seat, he struggled to keep himself from clenching his teeth.

_Breathe in and out, in and out. Slow, easy breaths. Control it. You can do it. You did it in the camps in Nam. _

When he glanced up in the rearview mirror, he saw that he had not fooled B. A. _Damn his eyes! _He shot the black man a warning look, telling him with his gaze to be quiet about what he observed. B. A. scowled and shook his head but didn't say a word as Hannibal shut the side door and got in.

Murdock leaned back against the head rest and tried to focus. He clutched the ice pack against the bruised area on his chest and let his eyelids droop.

_Billy, you got to talk me through this rehearsal, keep me goin'. Jus' keep me goin'. What'd Gramma always say? 'He gives strength to the weary 'n' increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired 'n' weary, 'n' young men stumble 'n' fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.' Surprised I 'member that after all this time. Gramma sure did love her Bible verses. _

The opposing voice, the one that was sounding like his father or what he remembered of his father's tone, answered with a laugh.

_Bible verses ain't gonna help you. Billy ain't gonna help you. Your Gramma ain't gonna help you. 'N' you never put much stock in God 'til you were in Nam, so He ain't gonna help you either. I'm gonna kill ya, boy! Firs' chance I get. Mark my words, boy. Yer dead. _

The words repeated and became a dull roaring in his head. The next thing Murdock was aware of was the van door opening. "We're here, Captain. Ready to rehearse?" There was that scrutinizing look on Hannibal's face again.

_Well, gettin' out's usually easier than gettin' in. Jus' so I don' step down hard. _

"Ready as I'll ever be." He clutched the door on either side and slowly lowered one foot until it was on solid pavement and then brought the other foot down to meet it.

"Faceman ain't here yet from pickin' up Cyndy." B. A. scanned the parking lot and then the street in front. He glanced at Murdock and wondered what was holding the injured man upright. Pure stubbornness?

The Captain's face was much too gaunt and pale. B. A. could see the slight tremor of the khaki pants as the pilot's knees shook with the effort to stand. He glanced at Hannibal and was relieved when he saw the Colonel noticed the same things.

"Gentlemen, let's go inside and find a seat. We can wait for Face and Cyndy there." Hannibal watched as Murdock shuffled toward the door in a crooked path. Nodding his head toward the pilot, the Colonel gestured for B. A. to help.

Just as the black man reached Murdock, the injured man swayed and almost fell to the sidewalk. The Sergeant gripped him around the waist and supported his weight all the way to the theater door which Hannibal held open. Once inside, B. A. lowered Murdock carefully into the first theater seat in the back row.

The Colonel knelt beside him. "Still want to tell me you can get up there on stage tonight and perform, Captain?" His chilled words were met with a fiery glare.

"Jus' wrap my ribs up so I can move 'n' I'll be fine," Murdock rasped. "Can't miss no more rehearsal or Mrs. Bartleman may's well sign over the theater tomorrow mornin'."

Much as Hannibal hated to admit it, the Captain was right. He motioned for B. A. to bring the bag of medical supplies he had put together.

As Hannibal removed Murdock's jacket, flannel shirt and T shirt and began to wrap the pilot's ribs, the theater door opened.

Her uninjured arm around his waist, Cyndy struggled to support a disheveled dazed Face as they staggered to the nearest unoccupied theater seats.


	22. Chapter 22 Escalating Violence

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 22 Escalating Violence

Hannibal handed the elastic bandage to B. A. to finish wrapping Murdock's abdomen and strode over to position himself in front of Face.

Looking down at the Lieutenant, Hannibal shook his head. Congealed blood trailed from his split lip down his chin and stained the front of his light blue finely woven dress shirt. The lapel of his dark blue suit jacket was torn as was one knee of his tan pants. Cynthia held his handkerchief and gently wiped at a second rivulet of blood under his nose.

"Hollis again?" The Colonel asked Face but Cyndy responded.

"He broke down my apartment door and attacked me. He was going to make me go with him. If Temp hadn't arrived, I don't know what would have become of me." Her words were laced with an underlying terror that was mirrored in her expression.

"Yeah, well, he looks a lot worse than I do, trust me." Face winced as Cyndy dabbed at his cut lip with the cloth. She murmured an apology and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

Hannibal heard movement to his side and glanced into Murdock's worried eyes.

Still unsteady on his feet, the pilot leaned with one hand on the backrest of the seat Face occupied and placed the other on his friend's shoulder.

"Was my Pa with 'im?" he asked with a hoarse whisper. When Face and Cyndy both shook their heads, he seemed to relax. The Colonel couldn't help but hear the short wheezing breaths Murdock was taking despite his heavily wrapped chest.

"You gonna be okay, Faceman?" Another nod.

"Like I said, your friend Hollis is hurt a lot worse than me." Face tried to smile.

B. A. was beside the Captain, his T-shirt in his hands. "Here, man. Put this on 'fore you catch cold."

Murdock shook his head and waved the Sergeant away with an impatient hand. When he spoke, his voice was raw with barely restrained fury. "You can't stay there no more, Cyndy. Ain't safe. Hollis'll keep comin' back 'n' when he does, we might not be there in time." He touched her chin with the fingers of one hand and turned her head so she was looking directly into his eyes. "It ain't safe," he repeated firmly.

Hannibal caught the fire in the pilot's gaze and her trusting response. "What do you suggest, Captain?" he asked, knowing what his answer would be.

The younger man kept his eyes on Cyndy, his hand still cupping her chin. "She comes out home 'til the last performance's done."

Face turned to look at Cynthia. "If that's what you want to do, I can drive you back to your place later to get a few things."

She hesitated, glancing at Face and then back at Murdock. "If you both think I'd be safer out there . . . "

Murdock took his shirt from B. A. and grimaced as he pulled it on. "It's settled then."

Before anyone could respond, he turned his gaze to the stage. "Best get to work 'fore Mrs. Bartleman comes back 'n' gives me 'nother of her bear hugs." He squared his shoulders and ambled down the aisle, fists clenched tightly in his pants pockets. B. A. trailed him with the cooler of ice packs and bottle of painkillers.

Hannibal narrowed his eyes. Murdock wobbled as he stood waiting for the play director to give him instructions and the Colonel was certain he was in more pain than he was allowing them to see.

"He's alright, isn't he, Hannibal?" Cynthia glanced at Murdock and then looked up at the older man.

"Even if he wasn't, he wouldn't let on," Face mumbled, watching his friend's laborious movements as he walked backstage. He stood and offered his hand to Cynthia. Together they made their way toward the stage. After a few seconds of thought, Hannibal followed them.

"Let's start with act two, scene three, with the entrance of Hotspur. Cynthia, dear, you're offstage waiting for your cue." Mrs. Bartleman clutched her copy of the script in her hand, her focus on the empty stage.

Hannibal settled into the seat beside B. A. "Looks like you'll be sleeping out in the van for a while."

The black man nodded. "Jus' long as we keep watch over the fool. Thing's ain't right wit' him, Colonel."

"I know." Hannibal frowned as he heard Murdock cough violently several times backstage.

In the Beaumont office of J. M. Latreque, Hollis and Harley McKeever waited impatiently for the man behind the desk to finish his phone call. Replacing the receiver in its cradle, he scrutinized the older man in front of him before giving his son a cold smile. The black eye, bruised jaw, lacerated lip and torn clothes were signs his son had come out on the worst end of a fist fight.

"I see Hollis has managed to keep you sober at least."

McKeever shifted on his feet nervously and cast his gaze on the array of bottles on the counter in the corner. "Yessir, Mr. Latreque. Been clear-headed 'n' sober for close on a week 'n' a half now."

"Good. That's good." Latreque sneered. "But neither of you've come any closer to shuttin' that theater down 'n' makin' the ol' lady give it up. That boy of yours is still walkin' 'round and all either of you've done is make those friends of his more watchful."

Hollis sputtered out a protest. "If I coulda got Cyndy to come with me, we coulda forced 'em to reconsider bein' involved, used her to make Murdock drop outta the play. He woulda done anythin' to keep her safe."

"But that didn't happen, did it? And you," Latreque glared at the older man, "I thought you needed him dead. You gone soft? Jus' remember, I know jus' enough of your reason for that to be your worst enemy. You'll find yourself on the wrong side of a cell in a federal penitentiary if you don't get it done."

McKeever's eyes glittered with anger. "I'll get it done. I got no claims on the boy. He's good as dead."

"Make it look like an accident like before 'n' there'll be no questions. Jus' get it done 'fore openin' night. And do anythin' to stop those rehearsals." Latreque gave both men an icy stare and dismissed them with an angry wave.


	23. Chapter 23 Nightmares and Holes

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 23 Of Nightmares and Holes

With Cynthia staying at the farmhouse, the sleeping arrangements had changed again. Hannibal and Face shared Murdock's old bedroom, Cyndy slept in the room next door, B. A. slept in his van and Murdock stayed on the couch in the dining room.

Hannibal hoped now that Murdock told them about his father and his past, his sleepwalking and nightmares would end. Instead, the nightmares became worse and if one of them dozed off on a watch, he was sure to have to go looking for the pilot.

One morning Face traced him to the loft of the old barn and found him curled up sleeping behind some rotting hay bales. How he managed to climb the ladder leading to the loft without the pain from his ribs waking him, none of the three men knew. They were two days from the full dress rehearsal when the worst episode occurred.

"What was that?" Face lit the oil lamp and opened the bedroom door. He wiped sleep from his eyes with the other hand and strained to look down the hallway. He was relieved to see he was not the only one who heard the sounds.

Hannibal had pulled on clothes and come up behind him. Cyndy opened her bedroom door, still tying the sash of her robe around her.

Both men looked at each other and came to the same conclusion.

"Murdock."

Face frowned. "He was so wired after tonight's rehearsal, he said he couldn't go to sleep right away. The last I knew, he was reading _Fantastic Four_ comic books by lamp light. B. A. was on watch so I came up to bed."

Cyndy nodded her agreement. "I heated up a cup of warm milk for him so he could sleep better. I thought maybe that and the comic books would help him relax."

Hannibal raised a hand and cocked his head. "Listen!"

From somewhere outside came a rhythmic sound of dirt scraping against metal.

"What in the world?" Face's frown deepened. Grabbing a flashlight and leaving the oil lamp on the desk, he followed Hannibal and Cyndy as they made their way downstairs.

"Sergeant!" Hannibal shook him awake. B.A. had dragged an armchair into the dining room to keep watch. He sat with his head bowed, a comic book open on his chest.

The Colonel glanced toward the couch and B. A. followed his gaze. He scrambled to his feet with a muttered curse. The blanket lay in a pile on the floor close to B. A.'s chair. A bone-colored cup and an open comic book rested in a pool of milk. The rest of Murdock's comic books were scattered at the end of the couch, close to B. A.'s chair, and others lay on the floor.

"Sorry, Hannibal. We was readin' 'n' he fell 'sleep. I watched him for a while after that but I must've dozed off." The big black man bolted out the front door with Hannibal, Face and Cyndy following.

"Listen." The Colonel swung his head to the left in the direction of the sounds. "If it is him and he's sleepwalking again, we need to approach him carefully."

"Why? He isn't dangerous. Is he?" Cyndy's expression was a mixture of worry and fear.

"Not normally. If he's having a nightmare about Viet Nam, he could be. It depends on what the nightmare is." Face saw she didn't understand. "Look, I'll have to explain later. Or maybe it would be better coming from him. Right now is not the time. We have to find him before he hurts himself."

"The sounds seem to be coming from over behind the barn. Be quiet and come with me." Hannibal motioned with his hand and crept around the side of the houseand toward the barn. Face clutched Cyndy's hand in his and followed with B. A. bringing up the rear.

To the side of the barn where the packed dirt of the farmyard met the overgrown pasture, the streaming moonlight illuminated a lone figure in a waist deep hole. Streaked in dark clay, wheezing with his effort, Murdock dumped shovelful after shovelful of clay and loam on an ever-growing mound.

"What the heck?" Face was the first to notice the shape and size of the hole already made. He lowered his voice and addressed Hannibal. "Does that look like what I think it is?"

Cyndy's eyes were wide in uncomprehending confusion. She covered her mouth with one hand while gripping Face's arm tightly. "What's he doing?"

B. A. growled, "Looks like a grave ta me. What's the fool doin' diggin' somethin' like that?"

The Colonel shook his head. "We've got to wake him up to get him out of there. He has to be hurting himself more by doing that even if he doesn't feel it. Face, try calling his name."

Face swallowed and cleared his throat. "Murdock. Time to wake up."

The pilot stopped his shoveling and swung his head toward Face. In the moonlight, the bruise resembled blood. He stared with unfocused eyes at his friends. Cynthia shuddered and huddled closer to the Lieutenant. Hannibal gestured at him to repeat what he said.

"Murdock. Time to wake up."

The Captain shook his head as if shaking off a bad memory and stared at the shovel in his hands. He dropped it as if it suddenly became too hot to handle.

"Face?" Hannibal and the others could see he was disoriented and horrified with where he found himself. "What . . . ?" He leaned back against the crumbling wall of the hole and gripped his head with both hands, staring at his surroundings with growing agitation.

"That's what we'd like to know, Captain. Mind explaining this big hole you felt you needed to dig by yourself?" Hannibal wanted to use a softer tone but he couldn't be sure Murdock had emerged completely from whatever nightmare brought him out here. The pilot gazed mutely at the walls of the hole, the mound of clay and loam and up at Hannibal. There was no telling if he understood or even heard the question clearly.

"Colonel, let's get the crazyman outta there 'n' into the house, clean 'im up. Ain't no place to talk 'bout this." Hannibal gave B. A. a sharp look. If he wasn't mistaken, the Sergeant's expression showed he knew more than he was telling. His eyes had a hint of apprehension in them.

Cynthia gathered the collar of her robe together in one hand and clutched it tightly around her throat. "I . . . I'll go get some water boiling and get a washcloth, soap and a towel out." She cast one more worried look at the injured Captain and scurried back toward the house.

"B. A.'s right. He can explain just as easily inside as out here." Face was already kneeling at the edge of the hole closest to Murdock. He hesitated, then offered his hand to his friend.

"Not that way, Faceman." B. A. strode toward the hole and paused before lowering himself in. He placed both hands on Murdock's shoulders to turn him around to face him. The pilot's eyes were confused and fearful. "I'll lift you up."

The Sergeant bent and wrapped his arms around the Captain's knees. Straightening, he raised the injured man up to sit on the rim of the hole, then climbed out to sit beside him. "Ready for the next step?" B. A. asked, waiting for the dazed nod before standing and helping the Captain to his feet.

Hannibal frowned, hearing the uncharacteristic concern in B. A.'s voice. He would let it go until he could talk to both men in private. For now, they needed to find out what nightmare had Murdock digging a grave in the middle of the night.


	24. Chapter 24 The Child Within

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 24 The Child Within

Face and B. A. brought Murdock back to the house and removed his dirt-crusted outer garments, leaving them in a pile on the worn kitchen linoleum. The two of them washed the mire from his feet and legs, then covered his lower half with the blanket. B. A. emptied the wash basin outside. Hannibal poured more water in a large pot and Cynthia set it to heating on the portable cook stove.

He remained mute, warily watching every movement each of the four people made around him.

It reminded B. A. of the most abused kids back at the youth center where he worked, the kids who rarely spoke above a whisper and even more rarely smiled.While other kids played, they watched, fearful they would make someone unhappy with them. It was difficult to reach that kind. He sighed, hoping the pilot would break his silence soon.

Cynthia discreetly turned her back while Face and B. A. worked.. She poured fresh water in the wash basin and knelt at the injured man's side. As she carefully dabbed with her uncasted hand at the clay streaking the bruise on Murdock's face, his haunted eyes searched hers.

She scrubbed a bit too hard and he flinched, bringing his hand up to his bruised temple and touching the back of her hand in the process. His fingertips lingered for a few seconds before he dropped his hand back to his side. She blushed and gave the washcloth to Face to rinse and wring out.

Face frowned at Murdock and handed Cyndy the washcloth freshly lathered with soap. She cautiously wiped the cloth across the basketball-sized bruise on his upper chest and quickly glanced into his eyes to see if she had caused him any pain. His troubled gaze was still on her face but she wasn't sure what he was thinking.

The Lieutenant wasn't either. He tapped her gently on the shoulder. "I can do the rest if you'd like to take a break." She nodded and stood, backing away as Face took her place.

Murdock closed his eyes as Face began washing the clay and loam from his neck and chest.

"Captain, don't go back to sleep." Hannibal snapped out the order and got the desired reaction. The brown eyes focused uncertainly on him. "I think we deserve to know about that hole out there. What do you remember?"

The Captain frowned and as the memory assaulted his mind, his expression changed to one of terror. He swallowed and shook his head. "Can't tell you."

Cyndy returned to kneel beside Face and the couch. "Can you tell me?" she murmured and brought her face closer to his. She smoothed back his brown hair with her hand. "Remember when we were going together you used to tell me about the nightmares you had? I listened to each one. Remember? You used to say I chased the bad dreams away just by listening."

She had his full attention. His tormented eyes held her gaze and he trembled as he nodded. "I 'member, Buttercup."

Face tossed the washcloth into the basin and furiously rinsed it without saying a word. Hannibal caught his eye and glared a warning to keep his temper under control. B. A. mirrored the Colonel's expression.

"Why don't you tell me now and the bad dreams will leave you alone for the rest of the night?" She knew that the handsome Lieutenant beside her was jealous but this was more important. Reaching out, she caressed Murdock's cheek with her fingers, her own memories and thoughts dictating her actions.

"It was the dream 'bout Pa. 'Member? I'm runnin' down the road, tryin' to get home to Gramma 'n' Grampa. Every step I take, the farmhouse gets farther 'way 'n' Pa gets closer. Then he's got me by the shirt collar 'n' he turns me to face 'im. He's got skin like death 'n' black eyes that got no soul behin' 'em." His words were coming quicker and he was growing more agitated but he held her gaze.

She nodded. "I think I remember. Then what happens? If you tell me, you'll have peaceful dreams until morning."

"You can't promise him that," Face hissed at her. Murdock's eyes clouded with fear.

"It always worked in the past," she hissed back and turned to stroke the pilot's forehead. "You can tell me."

"He says he needs a grave dug. Won't tell me who for. He takes me out back 'n' I dig. He makes me lay down in the hole . . . " A new series of tremors shook his body and he gripped her hand. He squeezed her hand so tightly she involuntarily gasped. "I don' wanna die . . . I don' wanna die . . . Billy keeps callin', tellin' me it's soon. 'N' he knows 'cause he's there 'n' I'm here."

B. A. abruptly stopped the pacing he had been doing ever since completing his part of helping the injured man. His face scrunched in an angry glower. "You ain' gonna die. I won' _let _'em take you. You got that, fool?" His voice rose until he was almost shouting.

Murdock's eyes widened and he cringed back into the pillows behind him. The burly Sergeant wished he could have taken back his words. The pilot had the expression of a terrified child. B. A. suddenly realized that with the nightmares and stress of the past several days perhaps Murdock had returned not only physically to his home but emotionally to his childhood.

Hannibal gripped B. A.'s arm and the black man looked at him with regret in his eyes. "It's alright, B. A. Nobody's going to die. Not on this mission if we can help it." The Colonel's face hardened as he watched Cyndy remove her hand from the injured man's grip and tenderly touch his face.

Murdock had retreated inside himself. He stared at the designs in the embossed tin ceiling above him with distant eyes that already had blocked out everyone around him. Even Cyndy's soothing words weren't reaching him.

As they all watched, his eyelids drooped and he soon fell asleep.

And they all wondered which Murdock they would see in the morning: the frightened child or the easygoing Viet Nam veteran with his secret traumas neatly tucked away in the deepest recesses of his mind.


	25. Chapter 25 Regrets

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 25 Regrets

Cynthia asked Hannibal to wake her at four in the morning to take a turn in watching Murdock. At first he insisted only the three men stand guard over the pilot.

"You saw how he responded to me when I asked him about the dreams. Could you have gotten the same results, Colonel Smith?" She lifted her chin in defiance. "If I can't calm him by myself, I'll run and get B. A. or yell for you or Temp."

In the end Cyndy won the argument and three of them went their separate ways to bed. The Lieutenant cast a solemn look at the sleeping pilot before taking Cynthia's hand to escort her upstairs.

By that time it was midnight and Hannibal's turn to watch.

He made a pot of coffee and sat sipping the strong brew and gazing intently at the Captain. Even though Cyndy's words and motherly touch had a soothing effect on the injured man, he still shivered and groaned in his sleep for the next three hours. Every half hour Hannibal rose from his seat to replace the blanket which repeatedly edged its way onto the floor from Murdock's restless movements.

Toward the end of the Colonel's shift, the injured man was mumbling frightened unintelligible things and moving his head back and forth.

_How much hell can one person take in his life? First, weekly beatings from a murderous drunk for a father and then Viet Nam and the camps. _

Hannibal rubbed his weary eyes.

_No wonder he asked me if I **thought** about Nam after that one mission. No doubt **he** does. Probably thinks about his childhood, too. And what did I say? I remembered it but didn't think about it. Why didn't I go deeper than that when he asked?_

He knew the response to that. None of them _wanted _to go deeper than that . . . ever.

He remembered the expression on Murdock's face when he heard the answer. No doubt the pilot thought about the words long after they were spoken, one more thing to ponder in that intelligent but fragile mind of his. Hannibal drank the last of the coffee in the cup with two short gulps. Time for the next watch.

Before he reached the first step of the stairs Cyndy was coming down, her bathrobe loosely tied around her and her slippered feet making small scuffing sounds on the weathered wood floor. She gave Hannibal a cautious smile. The Colonel met her eyes and nodded.

_Pretty girl. Seems like just the kind of girl who **would** wait for a sweetheart to come home from the war. Would have seen our Captain through all his issues and still loved him. _

"How has he been?" She looked beyond his shoulder to the couch. Her face pinched in a worried frown when she noted his restlessness and incoherent mutterings. "Listen, I know you're probably pretty tired but I really need to talk to someone about H. M. You're close to him and I sense if he had ever had a father who loved him, he'd be like you."

"You're right. I am tired. If you need to talk, don't you think you should talk directly to _him_?" The Colonel was uncomfortable with the idea of being anyone's father. A leader who cared for the well-being of his men, yes; a father, no.

"He has a difficult time talking about the things I need to know. Besides, if I spend much time talking to him, Temp will get jealous." She pleaded with him using those soft hazel eyes.

Hannibal glanced up the stairs and back at her, seemed to come to a decision. He motioned toward the front door. "Better to have this conversation out on the veranda where he can't hear."

She opened her mouth to protest.

"If you want to know what I think you want to know and he hears any of it, even while he's sleeping, he might react. He's not sleeping that soundly." The Colonel shrugged. "We'll still know if he starts sleepwalking or has a nightmare, and you can check on him whenever you think you need to. I won't talk in front of him. Your choice, Miss Berquon."

Cynthia nodded and after a minute spent speaking softly to Murdock and quieting him, she followed Hannibal out to the chairs on the veranda.

When the first shaft of sunlight crept across the blanket and bathed his face with warmth, he woke. The soft reddish tinged glow as seen through his eyelids reminded him of blood. Breathing heavily, grimacing at the stab of pain, he forced his eyes open. The soft glow became a temporarily blinding glare and he put his arm up to shield his eyes. A fit of coughing wracked his body. When it subsided he let his muscles go slack.

"You're awake." He hadn't noticed her sitting in the chair B. A. had occupied at the beginning of the night. She sounded weary. He squinted at her and took in the dark smudges under her swollen eyes.

_Why's she been cryin'? Or is it jus' the way the light is in here? _

At about the same time as that thought came to him, he noticed the sodden pile of clothing in the middle of the kitchen floor and his own near naked state under the blanket. His jacket, dried clay streaks on it, was draped over a chair. One high top tennie lay on its side, its sole coated with the same clay. He felt his cheeks flush with the realization that Cyndy may have had a hand in removing his clothes.

Clearing his throat, he stammered, "I . . . I musta gave y'all some trouble 'gain las' night." His gaze flickered on her face and then at his clothes on the linoleum.

She nodded, a hesitancy in her response. "A really bad nightmare."

"Can I ask you somethin'? Don' know how to say it 'xactly." He paused, trying to put together words that wouldn't be misconstrued. "Why're my clothes covered in dirt?"

He saw a shiver go through her body and she wrung her hands together in her lap.

"You can let the Colonel tell me later if it bothers you."

"No. No, I'm fine. I'm just a little surprised you don't remember. I guess what Hannibal told me is true." She saw his jaw tighten in response. He glared past her to the stairway. "He didn't volunteer the information. I asked. I asked because what you did last night could have hurt you even more than you're hurting right now." She lowered her eyes to avoid his scrutiny. "I wanted to know what changed you so much this past twenty years that you forgot about me."

Murdock swallowed and turned his face so she couldn't see his pain. "I didn' forget you on purpose. Ya gotta know that."

The front door opened and B. A.'s frame filled the doorway. "Hannibal still sleepin'?" Cynthia nodded and rose to her feet. "Got a call from Mrs. B. on the van phone. Been a break-in at the theater. She needs us."


	26. Chapter 26 The GreenEyed Monster

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 26 The Green-Eyed Monster

After waking Face and Hannibal, B. A. waited in the driveway with the van's motor running. At his request, Cynthia brought Murdock his duffel bag so he could find clean clothes to wear. As he dressed she kept her back to him and tried to clean the dirt from his shoes and jacket.

"Tell me if you need any help. Okay, H. M.?" She knew he wouldn't tell her if he did so instead she listened for any sound of pain.

He took in a sharp breath and she spun around to help. He had managed to get his khaki pants on but was struggling with his T-shirt.

"Here, let me help," she murmured. Taking the shirt from his hands, she found herself staring up into his somber brown eyes. She gently touched his bruised bare chest with her hand and he responded by moving closer and loosely wrapping his arms around her waist.

Gazing down at her, he whispered, "If things hadn't happened the way they did over in Nam, I 'da come home and we woulda been married. I didn' forget you on purpose. How could I?"

She nodded her understanding. "I know that now. But we can't go back in time, can we? We have to live in the present."

An angry cough sounded from the stairway. Murdock gave Face a guilty look and dropped his arms, stepping back. "This ain't what you think, Faceman."

"Oh, yeah? I'm starting to wonder exactly _what _I'm supposed to think. Or have you forgotten Daniela?" The Lieutenant's blue eyes flashed as he looked at Cyndy and then pierced Murdock to his soul with his jealous glare.

Murdock backed away, holding his hands up in front of him. "Calm down, muchacho, calm down."

"His ribs were hurting when he tried to put on his shirt. I was trying to help him." Cynthia's cheeks were crimson with embarrassment. Her frightened gaze darted from one man to the other, realizing too late she had caused a rift in their friendship.

Murdock grabbed his shirt from her hands. "Maybe you'd better go on out to the van, Cyndy. I'll manage."

"Yes, by all means, go out to the van. _I'll _help him the rest of the way." Face kept his glare focused on the pilot as Cynthia ducked out the door.

"You don' hafta help me, Faceman. I can do it myself." The pilot eased the shirt over his head and threaded his arms, one at a time into the sleeves. He paused, a series of coughs doubling him over. He grabbed a handkerchief from his pants pocket and held it to his mouth until the spasms stopped.

When he recovered and put the handkerchief back, he found the Lieutenant had moved much closer, his intentions seeming to be clear. He backed away, one careful step at a time.

"Just remember. _You _were the one who begged _me_ to get her to leave you alone. What do you think you're doing?" With both hands, Face shoved Murdock. The action jolted the pilot's abdomen and sent a fresh jab of pain shooting through him. He covered the bruised area with his hand and raised his free arm to shield his face.

"Well, maybe I started thinkin' 'bout Rachel 'n' Bambi 'n' . . . oh, who else? Sharon? How many of 'em did you take to bed 'n' leave the next day? You even made a few plays for Dani. Right under my nose, too. Who was the last gal you took seriously, huh?" The Captain's voice rose. He spat the last sentence at Face. Then just as suddenly his voice quieted. "If ya hadn't noticed, buddy boy, Cyndy's not like 'em. She can be hurt easier. _Much easier._"

"Maybe I already know that, _buddy boy_. You ever think that maybe I was looking for the right woman to love? Huh?" Face advanced toward Murdock, his hands clenched at his sides. "And if you keep inserting yourself in between Cyndy and me, she _will_ be hurt, and _you'll_ be the one doing the hurting, not me."

"That some kinda threat?" Every muscle in Murdock's body tensed, waiting for the physical blow to fall that would back up Face's statement.

Somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, a voice reasoned with him.

_This is Face. He's your best friend in the world. He would never hurt you as bad as your father or the VC did. Not even close._

"No. But if you want to take it that way . . . " Face stood toe to toe with him now. Even though he was a few inches shorter than the Captain, Murdock knew he had the passion behind his words to do real harm if he chose.

His father's drunken voice shouted in his ear, muzzling the voice of reason and escalating his panic.

_See? You don't even have friends to keep you from dying. I'm gonna kill ya, boy! Firs' chance I get. Mark my words, boy. Yer dead. _

"What's going on here, gentlemen?" Hannibal's voice cut through their argument. Neither man looked at him for a few tense seconds. Then Murdock broke the impasse and stepped around the couch and away from the Lieutenant.

"Nothin' at all, Colonel. Nothin' at all." The Captain pulled on his flannel shirt and was about to grab his jacket when Hannibal spoke again.

"If there's been trouble at the theater, you're in no condition to help correct it, Captain. I'm leaving you here for now. I want you to _rest_ on that couch until one of us comes back to get you. Is that clear?"

Murdock glanced at Face, still seething from their confrontation, and nodded slowly. "Okey dokey, Colonel. I'll be good 'n' take my pills and ice my ribs like I'm s'posed to. You guys be careful."

"Lieutenant, go get in the van. Let me speak to the Captain in private." Hannibal waited for the younger man to leave the house before talking. He pressed a pistol into the Captain's hand. When Murdock gave him a questioning look, he said, "Just in case they remember where your grandparents lived and figure they can cause trouble out here, too. Now about that disagreement between you and Face . . . "

"No problem, Colonel. We'll work it out. We always do." Murdock forced himself to smile. "Now y'all better get to Nederland 'n' see what you can do. I'll be fine out here."

Hannibal smiled back and left.

The injured man poured himself a cup of lukewarm coffee and eased himself back onto the couch. After tucking the handgun under the bottom pillow, he took a swallow from his cup and set it down on the floor. Moments later he curled up on his side violently coughing into the white handkerchief already stained with bloody phlegm.


	27. Chapter 27 Mending the Broken

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 27 Mending the Broken

Mrs. Bartleman waited for Hannibal at the back stage door or rather what was left of it, worry evident on her face.

"They got in this way." She pointed, even though the evidence of the break-in was obvious. "Oh, I knew we should have made this entrance more secure a long time ago but I never thought as small as our theater was, anyone would find anything worth stealing. Then when our finances became so tight, I couldn't afford to replace this wood door with a metal door."

Hannibal relit his cigar. "Now you're _forced_ to put in a new one. B. A. can do the actual work if you can get a temporary replacement door. It won't be any more secure, though, unless you put some money toward a better one."

The theater owner was almost in tears. "I guess we can try to take up a collection among the cast and crew to buy a new one. I don't know if it's worth it anymore. Members of the cast being hurt, nearly killed, now this. Maybe I should just let Latreque have the building."

"You can't do that, Mrs. Bartleman. This community needs a place like this and we all put so much work into _Henry IV_." Cynthia put her arms around the older woman and gave her a sympathetic hug. "We'll pool our resources and get a safe secure door."

"And I think we have some money from the last job we did that we could apply toward something like this. You can pay us back out of part of the box office receipts." Face put a hand on Cyndy's shoulder and was rewarded with a grateful smile and a kiss on the cheek.

B. A. nudged Hannibal and mumbled, "What he means is we gonna be doin' the job for free."

The Colonel smiled and shrugged. "That's the way it goes, B. A. Just think of this as a vacation instead of a job and you won't feel so bad."

"Have you checked inside the building?" Face drew Mrs. Bartleman away from Cyndy and toward the damaged door.

"I thought I should wait for you."

"Then we'll go first and make sure no one is still in there. You two ladies stay close to the door until we tell you it's safe to come in." Hannibal motioned to B. A. and Face to follow him inside.

One of the castle backdrops had been shredded while another muslin backdrop had been ruined with large splotches of paint over its surface.

A search of the stage area, balcony and auditorium turned up no one. Face escorted the two women inside to make sure nothing had been stolen.

"At least the armor and weapons display hasn't arrived yet." Hannibal watched as Mrs. Bartleman stood with tears in her eyes in front of the two damaged backdrops. "When they do tomorrow, we'll have two of us staying in the theater overnight each night of the performance."

"Oh, Mr. Empry promised his own security guards for that time. But they're just here to make sure the display doesn't get stolen. You're here to protect the rest of us." Cynthia put her arm around the older woman's waist as she surveyed the vandalism. She sighed. "I guess we should get started on replacing these two backdrops."

Hannibal motioned for B. A. and Face to follow him to the front row of theater seats. "Someone has to go back out to the farm and stay with Murdock. I suspect more's going on with him than he's allowing us to see. I told him to rest but you know him."

Face stuffed his hands in his pants pockets and looked down at his shoes. He glanced at Cyndy onstage, already uncapping and stirring the cans of paint. "I kind of wonder if I could be the one to do that, Colonel. That disagreement you saw earlier? I need to make it right between us. Besides, Mrs. Bartleman and Cyndy will be pretty busy with those two backdrops and B. A. has to stay to repair that back stage door."

Hannibal yawned. "I'll go with you, kid. Last night was pretty long for me and I doubt the ones who did this will return today. We'll have Mrs. B. call in a few others to work. If there are more than B. A. and the two ladies here, they should be safe."

Face hesitated. "If you can give me and Murdock a few moments to hash things out."

The Colonel nodded and Face relaxed.

"Before we go, I need to talk to Cyndy a few minutes."

Hannibal nodded again and clapped B. A. on the shoulder. "Let's take measurements for that new door and go see what we can find. Just be ready to go out to the farm when we get back, Lieutenant."

Face gave him a thankful smile and strode toward the stage.

"I think our Lieutenant may be in love for real this time, Sergeant," Hannibal said, an amused sparkle in his eyes.

B. A. grunted his agreement. "First time for everything, I guess."

Cyndy glanced up when Face approached, a dab of paint on her nose. He took out his handkerchief.

She gave him a sweet smile and stood to her feet, so close he could smell the fragrance of her hair. "You needed something, Temp?"

He felt suddenly shy. He took her by the arm and led her backstage.

_I've never been at a loss for words with a woman before. How is Cyndy different? Because like my best buddy said, she isn't like any woman I've been with for a long time. The last one that even came close to being this beautiful inside and out went away and became a nun._

Remembering his argument with Murdock and realizing he was right to protect Cyndy from being hurt didn't make Face feel any better nor did it help him know what to say to the woman in front of him.

"I made a fool of myself back at the farmhouse." He grimaced as he gently wiped the paint from her nose. "I wanted to apologize. It's just I've never known anyone quite like you."

She cocked her head to one side and got a confused smile on her face. "I'm not so special, Temp, and you don't have to apologize to _me_. I need to say I'm sorry to both you and H. M. You've been friends for a long time now. Hannibal told me about the camps and what H. M. and you did for each other to keep you both alive."

Face felt a slight shiver at the mention of the POW camps and wondered how much detail the Colonel gave her.

She shivered, too. "I don't think he described half of the suffering the two of you endured. 'No one can understand who hasn't been there,' he said. I know Viet Nam changed H. M. It hurt him in ways I can't begin to comprehend. He said he was broken in a million pieces when he came back and he said you helped him heal. I know it hurt you, too. But who's helped _you_ heal?"

The Lieutenant let her talk, allowed her to think through her own feelings out loud. When she had finished, her eyes telling him how special he was to her, he kissed her. It was unlike any other kiss he could remember.

And when Hannibal and B. A. returned, he knew he was ready to mend things with his best friend, too.


	28. Chapter 28 Murderous Intentions

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 28 Murderous Intentions

After the coughing finally ceased, he drifted off to sleep until he heard the front door rattle in its frame. Staring confused at the phlegm- and blood-stained cloth he clenched in his hand, he wondered where Gramma and Grampa were that they didn't answer the door.

_Prob'ly went to Sour Lake to get some groceries. _

He swung his legs over the edge of the couch and pushed himself into a sitting position. One side of his chest ached with the effort and his temples throbbed with an intense pain.

_After effects of another beating. Wonder what I did or said this time to get Pa riled at me. 'Course Pa don't ever need a reason._

The door shook violently again accompanied this time by heavy thuds. His eyes widened with the sudden knowledge that whoever it was, they were _not_ there to have a friendly sit-down with his grandparents.

_Probably ain't a Girl Scout sellin' cookies either. _

His first thought was to lie back down, cover himself completely with the blanket he found on the floor and pretend to not be there.

_If I'm not here, if I'm invisible, maybe they'll go 'way. _

Then he thought of his Gramma and Grampa. What if they returned while the person pounding on the door was still out there? He had to figure a plan to get the person outside to go away.

If he could climb out the kitchen window and get to the barn, he could grab his paint gelding Flyboy and ride for help. Maybe the intruder would run away if he knew the county sheriff might be returning with Murdock.

_Leastways, I hope so._

As quietly as possible, he stood up and crept across the floor into the kitchen. His gaze settled on a brown leather jacket draped over one of the kitchen chairs. A snarling tiger painted in oils stared at him from the back of the jacket. The phrase "Da Nang 1970" stirred some kind of emotion in him and he tried to remember when Grampa had bought that.

_Or did he? I sure woulda 'membered somethin' neat like that hangin' in the hall closet. _

He heard the door splinter with the next series of thuds. Seeing the high top Converse tennies on the kitchen linoleum, he pushed his bare feet into them and continued to the window beside the countertop. He wrenched the window open and straddled the sill before tumbling into the juniper bushes beneath.

The fall squeezed a sharp yelp of pain from his lips. Looking up, he realized that the intruder would see the open kitchen window and might even have heard the sound he made. Fear dictated his moves as he picked himself out of the bushes and ran. Every ragged breath he took to fuel his effort pierced him in the ribs.

The edges of his peripheral vision were darkening and black dots peppered his consciousness.

_Not now. Gotta hang on for a while longer. _

The weathered barn door loomed ahead and he wondered as he cleared it and entered the dimly lit interior why the soft nickers of the four horses didn't greet him. The chickens and milk cow were silent as well. He swayed for a few moments willing his eyes to adjust to the light.

A red El Camino, automotive tools scattered around it, was up on blocks in the rear of the barn. All of the stalls on either side of him were deserted. The old Farmall tractor was parked behind the El Camino.

_Don' make sense. Looks like there ain't been anythin' in here for years. Where's Flyboy, Paloma, the others? Somethin's not right._

Using the truck or tractor was out of the question and there were no horses. A queasy feeling settled in his stomach as he realized he couldn't go for help unless he ran. He spied a pitchfork leaning against the wall beside the door. Grabbing it and wielding it like a weapon, he emerged from the barn. The intruder's white truck was parked in the driveway close to the farmhouse veranda.

_If the keys are still there in the ignition . . . _

As he took the first few steps toward the truck and escape, a familiar figure stepped down from the farmhouse steps and turned to scan the property. Murdock gulped, panic freezing him in his tracks for seconds as the intruder saw him and advanced.

Keeping the pitchfork with the tines facing his father, Murdock backed up slowly. His panic was suffocating him, one breath at a time.

"I've been waitin' a long time to do this, boy. You 'n' me got a secret I can't let you ever tell, don' we?" McKeever laughed. It was the same laugh Murdock knew preceded the worst beatings.

_A secret? I don't 'member any secret that bad. _

One step at a time, he edged his way to the side of the barn.

"Don' know what you're talkin' 'bout, Pa. There's nothin' to tell. Nobody knew 'bout Billy. There wasn't any records 'bout 'im. You know that." He tried to control his voice, not let it quaver and show his fear.

"Not talkin' 'bout yer bastard half-brother. That was an accident." He leered at his son and Murdock remembered.

It was during one of his father's weekly visits to the farm while his mother was still alive. His grandparents were in Sour Lake at the feed store and his mother was alone when his father parked the light blue Chevy Bel Air in the driveway.

So much of that visit was a foggy memory but he remembered his father and mother arguing. He watched from his bedroom door though his mother had told him to stay put with the door closed. Her terrified scream brought him to the hallway.

Billy cried loudly from his mother's arms. Her back was to the stairway, and his father stood directly in front of her.

Then she wasn't there, gone amidst a series of thuds that ended with moans from the bottom of the stairs. His father paled and looked at him, said it was an accident. He walked down the stairs, over the bodies of both Murdock's mother and the baby and out the door. His mother lived; Billy didn't.

"I'm talkin' 'bout Beau Delton. 'Member him?"

Murdock's memory shifted. Suddenly, he saw himself as a seventeen year old riding Flyboy on a trail through the woods that led to a back pasture. At the edge of the forest he came upon his father digging a man-sized hole.

His father's Pontiac Catalina sat where he parked it, its trunk open, a bloodstained blanket covering something that had length and bulk. For seconds he stared, trying to make sense of what he was watching.

Then the thoughts and scene came together. His Pa had killed someone and the boy had the awful feeling it was a long time grudge finally consummated.

His horse whinnied and his father saw them. As quickly as he could manage, Murdock turned Flyboy's head to gallop back the way they came but not before he heard his father shout after him.

"If ya want to end up like this lousy piece o' garbage yer Ma picked up with, you'll keep yer mouth shut, boy."

Not long after that, he heard rumors that Beau Delton left town, started a crop dusting operation out in California. No one knew for sure. But he knew what had really happened and he didn't dare tell.

"I never tol' anyone, Pa. Never." His hands were trembling like they did when he was a kid. He knew he could outrun the old man. He knew secret trails his father didn't that doubled back to Grayburg Road.

Sucking in a deep breath, he turned, tossed the pitchfork to the side and took four sprinting steps. He stumbled and felt himself falling headfirst into a deep hole. The impact drove the breath from him and black dots filled his conscious mind completely. He wasn't aware of his father standing over the grave.

All he heard was Billy's voice, peaceful and encouraging. "It's gonna be alright now, brother. It's gonna be alright. You'll see."


	29. Chapter 29 Finding Murdock

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 29 Finding Murdock

A few minutes after Face's Corvette turned onto Grayburg Road, a white Ford Bronco passed them going in the opposite direction. Face pointed it out to the Colonel as the truck he saw that pushed the El Camino into the brush and injured Murdock and Cyndy in the process.

"Speed up, Lieutenant. If that _was _who you think it was, they may have paid Murdock a visit." Hannibal clenched the cigar between his teeth and hoped they were both wrong.

As Face drove into the homestead driveway, the older man saw the splintered front door and knew there had been trouble. Face was first out of the vehicle, breaking his own rule and vaulting over the car door to get out. He rushed up the steps and into the house before the Colonel got to the veranda.

He met Hannibal at the door. "His jacket's still here. I don't know where the handgun is you gave him. His tennis shoes are gone and there's a window by the kitchen counter that's open. He's disappeared and there's no telling where he might be."

The Colonel stood on the veranda steps and gave a cursory glance all around.

"Could he be visiting Billy's grave again?" Face offered.

"Maybe, but I doubt it. Did you check the whole house? Could he be hiding in a closet or in one of the rooms?" Hannibal spoke in a voice much calmer than he felt inside.

Face was right. Murdock could be just about anywhere if he was hiding or having a flashback. He would not permit himself to consider any other reason the pilot could not be found. At least, not until all other possibilities were checked.

Both men began to search the house. Face hurried upstairs to check the rooms and closets. Hannibal stayed downstairs, found the handgun under the pillow on the couch and pocketed it. A small scuff mark of dried clay on the kitchen windowsill indicated Murdock's escape route.

"Face! He's got to be outside somewhere."

Hannibal was scanning the property from the veranda when Face joined him. The Lieutenant ran both hands through his hair and cursed under his breath.

"Where do we look now, Colonel?"

"I'll check the outhouse and make a sweep toward that clearing where the grave is. You search the barn. Be careful. If anybody was left here to find him, they will not be friendly." Hannibal drew the Smith and Wesson from its shoulder holster and began his search.

Face drew his own weapon and walked toward the barn.

_Something's different and I can't quite figure out what it is. _

He paused by the open door and squinted to give the interior of the barn a preliminary once-over.

_Everything seems in order in there. I'll still have to climb that ladder and check the loft but the stall area . . . _

His gaze fell upon the pile of dirt and the hole Murdock dug the night before. As he looked, his stomach knotted.

_That hole was much deeper last night. The pile of dirt was higher. Dear God in Heaven! _

"Hannibal!" Face screamed the name. He grabbed the shovel laying beside the hole and started to dig.

He felt like his arms were moving in slow motion as he scooped shovelful after shovelful of dried crumbling clay from the hole. By the time Hannibal joined him, tears were streaking his face.

Without a word the Colonel hurried into the barn and found a manure scoop shovel propped in one of the stalls.

They had removed two feet of clay and loam when Face stopped. "Do you hear anything?"

He strained his ears to listen for a whimper, a groan, anything that would tell him his friend was still alive.

Hannibal stopped, too. The only sound to be heard was the raucous call of a blue jay perched in the upper branches of an oak tree at the verge of the forest.

"He's gotta be alive, Hannibal! He's gotta be." Face sat down on the rim of the hole and lowered himself in, keeping well to the outside walls. He knelt on the earth and scraped at the clay with his hands. As he continued to claw the dirt away from the center of the hole, his hands came into contact with a smooth wooden surface.

"There's something here, Colonel." His digging became even more focused as he sought to define the edges of the large flat piece of wood.

"Here. Use this." Hannibal handed Face the shovel and climbed down into the hole on the opposite side.

Both men worked at a quick pace to scrape all the remaining clay from the wooden surface.

"Come around to this side and help me lift this up." Hannibal clenched his cigar in the corner of his mouth and waited for Face to position himself. Together they lifted the edge of the plywood up and away so that it rested against the opposite wall.

The Lieutenant fell to his knees and put a shaking hand on Murdock's back. "Hannibal." He couldn't say any more.

The Colonel knelt beside Face and removed a black glove. Pressing his fingertips into the pilot's neck, he felt for a pulse. Relieved at the weak but steady heartbeat, he nodded at the Lieutenant. "Let's turn him over."

Clay mottled and streaked the half of Murdock's face which had been resting on the dirt floor of the hole. His lips and fingertips had a bluish tinge. His breaths were shallow and accompanied by a bubbling sound in his lungs.

"Murdock. Buddy?" Face clutched one of the pale limp hands, the chilled skin barely warming in his own grasp. The pilot's eyes squeezed a little tighter before relaxing again.

_It's a response. Not a big one, but a response nevertheless. _

Face glanced to his side and noticed Hannibal's frown as he considered the depth of the hole. "We have to get him out of here and into the house."

"Hannibal, _how_ are we going to get him out of here? B. A. isn't here to lift him this time and we might injure him worse. And once we get him to the house, then what?"

The Colonel regarded him with his steel blue eyes. "Would you rather he stay here in this grave?"

The question was like a punch to Face's gut. He shook his head, thinking about how near to the truth the word 'grave' had almost been.

"Hang in there, buddy. We'll get you out of here somehow." Face stared solemnly at the rim of the hole, then focused on the rectangular piece of plywood.

"I think I have an idea. Let me see what I can find in the barn." The Lieutenant hoisted himself up and over the edge of the hole and disappeared from Hannibal's sight.


	30. Chapter 30 Out of the Grave

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 30 Out of the Grave

"Hang in there, Murdock. We'll get you out of here." Hannibal rested his hand on Murdock's chest, worrying over the barely perceptible rise and fall.

The Captain gave him a small nod before a shudder passed through his lanky frame.

Face lowered himself into the hole again. If the whole situation were not so serious, Hannibal knew the conman would have been complaining about the clay and loam ruining his dress pants and jacket. But he didn't seem to even notice.

The Colonel regarded the determination in the younger man's actions. "Find everything you need?"

The Lieutenant nodded and bent to check Murdock's condition. Gripping the chilled hand, Face reassured his friend of his presence and received a weak squeeze to his fingers. "We have to get that plywood under him."

Hannibal rolled Murdock onto his side as close to the wall as possible while Face maneuvered the wooden panel into position. Once the injured man was rolled onto his back onto the makeshift stretcher, the Lieutenant climbed back out of the grave.

"Watch out below!" A bale of hay crashed down at Murdock's feet, sending a cloud of dust and chaff into the air. It was followed by two more bales and a coil of rope. Before Face climbed back down, he stood two long two by fours on their ends in the corner.

Hannibal seemed to know instinctively what his Lieutenant was planning. He assisted Face in moving one of the bales closer to the head of the plywood stretcher. With each man grabbing a corner, they lifted the plywood end onto the hay. The Lieutenant knelt at Murdock's side and passed the coil of rope under the stretcher and around the pilot's chest under his arms, lashing him securely to the panel.

The Captain's eyes flickered open for a moment and he stared dully at Face. "Shoulda . . . left me 'lone." He coughed and feebly shook his head. "Billy said . . . it'd be alright." His face pinched with pain as he coughed again.

_Face looks so scared. Hannibal, too. Nothin' to be 'fraid of. Billy said . . . _

"Billy can't have you yet, Captain. I told you, the team needs you." Hannibal glanced at Face, noted the panicked tightness of his features. The Colonel wondered if his own expression was betraying the anxiety he was feeling inside. The tone in Murdock's voice was too uncharacteristically fatalistic to be ignored.

Murdock forced his lids open but his focus was on something beyond the edge of the grave. His coffee brown eyes glazed with tears as more coughs wracked his body.

_Hurts so bad. Billy said it'd stop if I just let go. But they need me. Hannibal said._

Hannibal and Face worked quickly to stack the hay bales and prop the two boards on them to make a ramp to the rim of the hole. Then they slid the makeshift stretcher onto the boards. The Lieutenant scrambled out again to back his Corvette closer. Attaching one end of a rope to the bumper of his car and the other end to the rope lashing Murdock to the plywood sheet, he edged the car forward. With Hannibal preventing the stretcher from veering to either side, the injured man was soon out of the grave.

Face got out from behind the wheel and knelt beside the pilot. "Murdock? How you doing, buddy?"

"Tired . . . hurts to breathe . . . head aches . . . " the pilot mumbled. He frowned, trying to remember something, then made eye contact. "My Pa . . . "

"Isn't here right now, Captain." Hannibal finished the sentence. "Do you think you can walk if we help you up?"

The pilot hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Face loosened the rope and together Hannibal and he bent down to lift Murdock to his feet.

"One step at a time now," the Lieutenant encouraged him as they staggered across the farmyard to the veranda, his arms around their shoulders.

All of Murdock's focus was on making his feet move and preventing any expressions of pain from escaping his mouth. He needed to tell Hannibal something about his Pa but his memory was fading in and out with his grasp on consciousness. Maybe when he got to the couch and lay down, he could concentrate on what he had to say.

_If ya want to end up like this lousy piece o' garbage yer Ma picked up with, you'll keep yer mouth shut, boy. I'm gonna kill ya. Mark my words. _

His father's voice rasped in his ear and he flinched. For a moment he was back in the grave, hearing his father laugh, feeling the weight of the piece of plywood drop on him pinning him down, the muffled thumps of clods of earth raining down on the wood. Not being able to move to scratch his way through the dirt to fresh air. The air under the plywood slowly turning stale. Knowing he was dying.

Through it all Billy's voice preparing him for what was coming.

_Peaceful here, brother. No more pain, no more worry. Love all 'round you. 'N' we'll never be separated 'gain._

As his team mates helped him navigate the veranda steps and front door, he muttered the words. "Never be separated 'gain."

With a puzzled frown, Face glanced at the Colonel and said, "We're here. We're not going away."

They lowered Murdock onto the couch, making him as comfortable as possible. Hannibal moved toward the buckets on the kitchen counter to get some water heating on the camp stove.

"My Pa . . . dug a grave." The Captain tried to put the words together.

"He'll never do that again. I promise." Face spread the blanket over him and pulled a kitchen chair close beside him. When Murdock looked up into his friend's eyes, he saw vengeful anger behind the promise.

Murdock shook his head, knowing his words were being misunderstood, feeling weariness begin to settle in, making him lose his focus.

_Gotta help me, Billy. Help me tell 'im. _

"Not that grave. 'Nother one. Near the back pasture." He saw he had Hannibal's attention and willed himself to maintain eye contact.

"Whose?" The Colonel crossed his arms.

"Twenty years 'go . . . " Murdock turned his head to the side as another fit of coughing interrupted. When he finished, he attempted to take in a deep breath to continue. The piercing pain that resulted left him clenching a handful of blanket in his fist. "Billy's Pa."

He saw the shared look between Hannibal and Face and knew they believed him. He closed his eyes in relief.

_Secret's out now. Best I could do, Billy. Can I come home now? _


	31. Chapter 31 Pact of Secrecy

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

AN: Sorry about the short chapter. I've been at the Motor City Comic Con and got to meet the original actor who was instrumental in developing Murdock as a character: the wonderful and talented actor Dwight Schultz. Mr. Schultz was responsible for everything from Billy the invisible dog to many of the other characteristics you have come to know and love in Murdock. Much applause to him from his fans. This story is solely my own creation, though.

Chapter 31 Pact of Secrecy

When he woke he heard Hannibal and Face's quiet conversation and listened for a few minutes, trying to decide whether to go back to sleep or not. In a way, he was disappointed he had not awakened to the Paradise Billy had been describing to him, the one where his family waited for his arrival.

_Guess there's somethin' else I'm s'posed to do 'fore that. _

"There's no statute of limitations on murder, Face. If he knows where the grave is and he can testify, he can put his father away for life."

"Life in a federal prison's too good for someone like that, Colonel." Face's voice grated with a hatred Murdock seldom heard directed toward anyone, not even toward Colonel Decker.

"Faceman's right, Hannibal. I ever get my hands on 'im, he'll wish he never done what he did to the fool."

_Is that B. A.? What's he doin' here? Thought he was at the theater. _

He felt the crackling precursor in his chest before the coughing began and he doubled up onto his side. He wished he knew where the white handkerchief was that he had been using. Spasms of phlegm-producing coughs took all of his focus away from the conversation at the table. When he finished, he remained curled up and let his muscles relax.

A cool hand checked his forehead before applying a damp washcloth. "You've been sleeping for quite a while, H. M." At the sound of her voice, he opened his eyes in confusion and cautiously turned onto his back.

_Last I knew, Hannibal 'n' Face were diggin' me outta that hole. When'd Cyndy get here?_

"How long? Did I miss rehearsal?" His mouth felt dry and his words came out with a raspy sound.

_What I wouldn't give for a glass of water 'bout now. Don' know if I'd keep it down but it'd sure help my throat. _

She sighed and gave him an accusing look. "You've been out for eight hours and no, you didn't miss rehearsal. How long have you been pretending you're not hurting very much?"

The question surprised him but he realized it shouldn't. Cyndy had always been able to see through any charade, even the ones he put on to protect her. Every time he tried to cover up his injuries from a beating, every time he disguised his fear over his father's threats, she got the truth out of him.

If his father knew how much he had confided in her, she would have been in danger, too. But she knew how to keep secrets and comfort him at the same time. Just like she was able to listen to his nightmares and make the bad dreams go away. That was what was so magical about her.

But maybe she wouldn't see through him this time.

"I'm _not_ hurting. I can do the job." He leveled his gaze on her, hoping she would accept what he said but seeing she didn't.

She opened her mouth to respond and he quickly glanced over to the kitchen table where Hannibal, Face and B. A. were talking among themselves.

"You listen to me, Buttercup, 'n' listen good. Can't say it more'n once." His voice was a hoarse whisper, his eyes feverish and intense. "All o' this comes with the job I gotta do. There's no real rest 'til that's done. It's the way it was in Nam and it's the way it is when we're on a mission."

She rinsed the washcloth in the basin and gently bathed his face and neck with it. "Is the job more important than your life?"

He kept silent. He didn't have to say anything. His eyes said it all.

Murdock reached out and clasped the fingers of her casted hand. With the other hand, he put a finger to her lips and shushed her protest. After a few seconds of anger, she relented and he dropped his hand.

"Then at least let me help you."

He scrutinized her concerned expression, those soft hazel eyes with all their kind, sweet compassion, and nodded. "Just keep it 'tween us. 'Kay? Don' tell the guys."

She glanced over at the three men and back at him, hesitant to agree.

"Hannibal'll put all o' them in danger if he puts off the performances jus' to get me better. Never know when someone in this area'll see one o' them, put two 'n' two together 'n' call the military or cops to arrest 'em. But with you keepin' an eye on me and nursin' me, I should get through it 'n' then we'll be on our way." He watched the play of emotions on her face and knew Face wouldn't understand the attention she would have to give him to keep him going. It couldn't be helped.

"Please, Cyndy. If I could see any other way, I'd do it." He gave her a lopsided grin. "I promise, I'll be the best patient you ever had. 'N' I'll try to give you as much time as you need with Face."

Her uncertainty over his request was replaced by a look he couldn't quite understand when he said the conman's name. As he tried to figure out if something had gone wrong between Face and her, the Lieutenant rose from the table to join them.

"If that's what you really want, H. M." Her voice was a low murmur edged with sadness.

Then Face was there, his hands resting lightly on Cyndy's shoulders. She gave Murdock one more hurt glance before rising to let the Lieutenant have her seat. But Murdock knew she would help him complete his job despite her reluctance to keep his condition secret.

_'N' when this mission's over, they may have to leave me here. But we'll ford that river when we come to it._


	32. Chapter 32 Lady Kate and Hotspur

Death Waits In the Wings

AN: In the line that Murdock says, "mammets" are dolls.

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 32 Lady Kate and Hotspur

Murdock and Cyndy stood center stage within an arm's length of each other. She reached out to him, her fingers brushing his arm before he resolutely turned his back to her.

"'Away,  
Away, you trifler! Love, I love thee not.  
I care not for thee, Kate. This is no world  
To play with mammets and to tilt with lips.  
We must have bloody noses, and crack'd crowns,  
And pass them current too. God's me, my horse!  
What sayst thou, Kate? What wouldst thou have with me?'"

He wondered as he stood waiting for her to deliver her next lines how Shakespeare could have known. How could the Bard of Avon have looked down through the passage of years and seen the two of them and known their situation?

Him, with a mission to be accomplished despite any deep-held feelings that had been stirred up by being so close to her again. Her, with obvious feelings of love for him which had withstood the test of time.

The mission itself, one that might yet come to blood being spilled. His own? Perhaps, if his father had his way. That of innocent others? Not if he could help it.

"'Do you not love me? Do you not indeed?  
Well, do not then, for since you love me not  
I will not love myself. Do you not love me?  
Nay, tell me if you speak in jest or no.'"

Her voice had a trembling quality to it that struck at his soul. It was as if she were not saying the words as Lady Kate Percy to her husband about to go into battle but as Cynthia Berquon to the one she kept in her heart for over twenty years.

He almost wished Mrs. Bartleman's stage directions had him remain with his back to her. Her tear-filled eyes betrayed the emotions behind her delivery. With difficulty he concentrated on his lines and not on the woman standing before him he had once loved with all his heart.

"'Come, wilt thou see me ride?  
And when I am o' horseback I will swear  
I love thee infinitely. But hark you Kate,  
I must not have you henceforth question me  
Whither I go, nor reason whereabout.  
Whither I must, I must. And to conclude,  
This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate.  
I know you wise, but yet no farther wise  
Than Harry Percy's wife. Constant you are,  
But yet a woman; and for secrecy  
No lady closer, for I well believe  
Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know,  
And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate.'"

Mrs. B.'s stage directions called for him to caress her cheek with his hand as he spoke the last sentence. He hesitated before lightly stroking the side of her face. Her skin was soft and warm under his fingertips as she said, "'How! So far?'"

He responded. "'Not an inch further. But hark you Kate,  
Whither I go, thither shall you go too.  
To-day will I set forth, to-morrow you.  
Will this content you, Kate?'"

She looked into his eyes with such tenderness he swallowed. "'It must, of force,'" she said.

He offered her his arm. She took it and he led her offstage.

As soon as the curtain closed behind him, Murdock reeled toward the back door, Cyndy following close behind. He slammed the door open and stumbled outside. Leaning against the wall, he dug a handkerchief from his pants pocket and held it to his mouth as the coughing fit erupted.

She stood beside him, gently massaging his back as he doubled over.

For lunch, she had pressed him to have some chicken broth and oyster crackers. Through the first five scenes of the rehearsal, he barely kept the meal from coming back up. As the coughing ended, the retching began until he was so weak with the spasms he sank to the pavement.

Cyndy knelt beside him and pulled him into her arms when he finished.

"Tell me why I shouldn't go in there and let Hannibal know about this," she softly scolded. "Have you held down _any_ food lately?"

"Some jello, apple juice, applesauce, bananas. When I rest, it stays down fine. When I move 'round, it doesn't." He glanced up into her worried eyes and flashed a weak smile. "'Sides, you kinda promised ya wouldn't tell, 'member?"

"How's your ribs feeling? Are they wrapped well enough to get through the rest of rehearsal?" She pulled away to anxiously scrutinize his expression for any hints of repressed pain. "I should get you an ice pack."

He forgot how good Cyndy was at taking care of injuries. She had been by his side tending his wounds each time his father beat him up in the past. But what did he expect? She was a Candy Striper in high school at one of the area hospitals and had always wanted to go into nursing. He wondered why she hadn't. Was it because she waited for him to return from Viet Nam?

"If you can help me to my feet, we'd best be gettin' back in there 'fore Face thinks we're doin' hanky-panky backstage." He gazed at her and smoothed back her hair with one hand. "You would've made a great nurse, Cyndy."

He was amused to see her blush and couldn't tell if it was because of Face or his compliment. As she got to her feet, he drew his knees up and extended his arms to her. Grasping his hands, she helped him stand.

They were so close he could have slow-danced cheek to cheek with her. His eyes met hers and she reached up to kiss him. Her lips lingered on his for several seconds before he reluctantly backed away.

He chided himself for allowing the moment to continue for as long as it did. In his heart he wondered if Face wasn't right after all. Was _he_ going to be the one who hurt her the most in the end?

"Best be goin' inside, Buttercup," he mumbled and opened the door for her. "Gotta get iced up 'fore the next act."


	33. Chapter 33 Of Weapons,Guards and Motives

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

AN: By definition, a patina can be a tarnish that occurs over time on certain metal surfaces. A bascinet was a metal helmet used on the battlefield in medieval Europe. It had an open face and usually a visor and a chain mail neck and shoulder covering called an aventail attached to it.

Chapter 33 Of Weapons, Guards and Motives

The armor and weapons display was delivered at noon during the rehearsal lunch break. Murdock knew the history and significance of each piece brought in and set up. He was awestruck with the sheer number of weapons and quality of the display and kept up a running commentary to Face and Cynthia.

Her eyes grew wider with each bit of information the pilot offered. Face wished he had read up on medieval history so he could impress Cyndy with his knowledge like Murdock obviously was.

The pilot seemed particularly impressed by the medieval swords.

He pointed to one of the longer swords in the display. "This's called a hand-'n'-a-half sword. Also known as a bastard sword." He smiled at Cynthia's blush. "See, the stage sword's a pretty good imitation but you can tell it's a replica." He held the shorter re-enactment sword beside the real sword, comparing them. The exhibit sword was about a foot longer than the prop sword.

"Really? Except for the length, it looks identical to me." Face raised his eyebrows and held Cyndy closer to himself.

"Oh, but there's where you're wrong." Murdock turned the prop blade over in his hands. "Look here." He pointed to the blade of the exhibit sword. "See the patina? Old swords like this get coated with grime 'n' dust through the years. See those itty bitty pock marks? Those're places where the blade rusted 'way. Now look at the stage sword. The darker color of the blade's been put on there on purpose to make it look used. No pitting 'cause it's newer. 'N' if you hefted that sword, it'd be 'bout five pounds or more. Here. See how heavy this one is."

He handed the sword to Cyndy, taking her hand and curling her fingers around the grip. Face narrowed his eyes as Cyndy allowed him to shape her hand to the weapon's handle.

"It's so light." She held the sword for a few moments and passed it to Face. The Lieutenant hefted the weapon in his hand before nodding with a tight-lipped smile and returning it to Murdock.

"Only 'bout two pounds. Hardly any effort to use it. Real one's a lot more deadly." The Captain grinned at Face and Cyndy. "See the taper on that blade? The tip was meant to pierce through chain mail. The end on this one's rounded. Got a rubber tip. Still hurts if you get broadsided with it." He touched the purpling bruise on his face and winced for effect.

Touching the tip of the replica with his forefinger, he mused to himself. "Sure am glad this ain't the real thing." He glanced at his companions. "Mrs. B. figured a chain mail shirt and a bascinet without a visor'd make us look like we were fightin' men but the audience'd still know who was who. Period armor plating'd cover us up too much. It'd protect a whole lot better but with stage swords, we don' really need it."

Two of Empry's security guards strolled through the alcove where the exhibit was displayed. Face couldn't be sure but one of them seemed to give Murdock more than a casual glance as he passed. Maybe it was because of the prop sword the pilot brandished in his hand. Or did he recognize the Captain from somewhere else?

Face nudged his friend and gestured with his head toward the guard. "You know him?"

Murdock frowned and searched his memory. "No, can't say I do. Why?"

"Oh, I don't know. He seemed to know you. Maybe I'm just imagining it." Face shrugged.

The pilot chuckled to himself. "I'm s'posed to be the one with paranoid delusions, 'member?" But he cast a wary extra glance at the guard as he turned to come back through the alcove. His look was met with a cold appraising scan.

Mrs. Bartleman clapped her hands together, signaling the start of the afternoon's rehearsal.

"Well, here goes. Guess we'll see how good I am at medieval swordplay." Murdock gave Cyndy a thumbs-up and a smile as he left them to take his place offstage, the prop blade in his hand.

"Maybe we should go find a seat and watch." Cynthia tugged at Face's arm but kept her gaze on the stage. The actors portraying King Henry IV, Prince John of Lancaster, the Earl of Westmorland and Henry the Prince of Wales were just beginning to deliver their lines in front of the backdrop of an English countryside.

The Lieutenant cupped her chin in his hand and turned her eyes to him. "We haven't had any time to sit and talk since that first night you stayed out at the farm. Your scenes with Murdock are done for the day. Why don't we go out and cruise around for a while?" He flashed her a dazzling smile and bent to kiss her.

She widened her eyes and squirmed out of his grasp. "I thought Mrs. B. said we were going to run through the play once more in its entirety tonight before she sends us all home. Besides, don't you want to watch the battle scenes?"

Drawing back, he straightened to his full height. He glared at her with a hurt angry expression."You mean _you_ want to watch _Murdock_ in action, don't you? Look, he's spoken for. I told you that the night of the accident."

The words stung and made her swallow to keep back her tears. She turned her back to him, trying to compose herself, not willing to let him see her cry.

"He _asked_ me to get acquainted with you so he wouldn't have to hurt either you or Daniela." As soon as he said the words, Face knew he should have remained silent. When she looked at him again, tears were trickling down her face. "I . . . I shouldn't have said that. It started out as a favor to him and it got to be more than that. I really do care for you, Cyndy. More than I ever have for anyone else." He reached out to take her into his arms but she stepped back.

She shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself. "I need some space." Giving the actors onstage one final glance, she quickly walked away to the women's bathroom where Face was sure not to follow.


	34. Chapter 34 Swordplay and Distractions

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 34 Swordplay and Distractions

Murdock stood by himself offstage waiting for the Beaumont physician who was cast in the role of King Henry IV to make his exit. When the physician came backstage, he was to pause for a count of two seconds before making his entrance. The pilot clutched the ice pack to his ribs and willed the coughs which had plagued him throughout rehearsals to be silent.

_Can't let Hannibal know. We're almost through for the night. If I can jus' hold out through this last scene 'n' let Prince Henry kill me, I'll be alright. _

As the last thought went through his mind, he grimaced.

_If Hollis hadn't lost his temper durin' auditions, he prob'ly **woulda** killed me durin' one of the rehearsals. Him or my Pa or whatever's got holda me might do the job yet. _

It was time for his entrance. He left the ice pack on a chair in the backstage area and parted the side curtain. Scanning the auditorium, he noticed who was and who wasn't out in the audience. Hannibal and B. A. sat in the front row where they could quickly get onstage if needed. Mrs. Bartleman stood halfway up the aisle, script in her hands. Face had settled himself in one of the aisle seats in the last row. He didn't look very happy. The security guard who had scrutinized him so thoroughly in the alcove stood watching the action on stage from the theater door. The actors and actresses who were not part of this act were seated in small groups throughout the theater.

One person was missing and his heart beat faster when he realized who it was.

_Where's Cyndy? _

As he came on stage bearing his sword, he paused. Evan Dunlow, the actor portraying the Prince of Wales, faced him, expecting him to begin the verbal exchange. When Murdock didn't, Evan glanced nervously at Mrs. Bartleman, then back at him. The pilot tried to remember the words, feeling every bit like a treed possum with the flashlight beam directly in his eyes.

He took a deep painful breath and began. "'If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth.'"

_Well, there's my first line. There's gotta be a good reason Cyndy's not there with Face. _

"'Thou speak'st as if I would deny my name.'" Evan spoke with an air of challenge to his voice.

"'My name is Harry Percy.'" Murdock's gaze flickered over the audience, searching for Cyndy. Mrs. Bartleman frowned at his obvious distraction. Hannibal got up from his seat and made his way back to where Face sat.

"'Why then I see  
A very valiant rebel of the name.  
I am the Prince of Wales, and think not, Percy,  
To share with me in glory any more . . . '"

As Evan spoke the remainder of his lines, Murdock shot an anguished glance at Face. He hoped the Lieutenant could read his mind and would try to find Cyndy. Then the stage was silent and he realized it was his turn to speak.

_What's my next line?_

He gulped and stammered, "'Nor shall it, Harry . . . '" He finished his lines with difficulty and clumsily thrust the prop sword toward his opponent's midsection. The younger actor parried and Murdock found himself having to concentrate on the swordplay. Even though each move was blocked out in the stage directions, a lack of focus could result in minor injuries.

During the next few minutes until the lunge Evan made to deliver the fatal blow, Murdock pushed his concern over Cyndy's whereabouts to the back recesses of his mind. As soon as he fell to the floor as if dead, he made sure to turn his head in such a way as to be able to squint toward the back row of the theater.

Relieved to see Cyndy sitting with Hannibal at the opposite end of the row where Face sat, Murdock closed his eyes. Though the words were spoken directly over him, the muffled sounds of Evan's and then Falstaff's soliloquies came to him as if from a distance.

_So tired. _

Too late he remembered to brace himself for the end of Falstaff's speech. Pete Stollmeier, the actor portraying Falstaff, bent to take both of Murdock's arms over his shoulders and carry him on his back. Murdock shuddered with the sudden stretch and jar to his rib cage. Pete hesitated, feeling the tremor pass through the pilot's body.

Evan and the actor portraying John of Lancaster made their entrance and Pete staggered toward them. Murdock felt the first jolting step before passing out. When Falstaff deposited the injured man's body at Prince Henry's feet as the stage directions demanded, the back of Murdock's head thumped loudly against the stage floor. All three actors onstage looked down at him in confusion. His performance seemed too realistic.

B. A. rose from his seat, watching the pilot for signs of consciousness. On her way to the stage, Cyndy brushed past Mrs. Bartleman and B. A. She pushed the three men back and knelt beside him.

"H. M.?" She stroked his hair back without a response. Looking up at B. A. who squatted down on Murdock's other side, she shook her head. "You know, don't you."

The big Sergeant scowled down at the unconscious man and nodded. "Fool keeps sayin' his dead brother's callin' 'im to Heaven. I been watchin' 'im, tryin' to keep that from happenin'. Can't be there all the time though."

Her voice was a whisper. "He made me promise not to tell anybody how bad it is."

B. A.'s scowl softened. "That's not fair to you, lil sister. I seen him cover up his pain before to keep everyone else safe. I shoulda seen this comin'." He paused for a second, then asked in a lowered voice. "How bad is it?"

When she glanced at him, he could see the answer before she spoke. "He's been vomiting up almost everything when he's not resting. He leaves the building to go outside after his scenes so no one else hears or sees. I've seen him cough up bloody phlegm. Lots of it. He won't let me take his temperature but I know he feels warm to the touch almost all the time now."

Hannibal, Face and Mrs. Bartleman were approaching and B. A. warned her with his gaze. "I'll help you watch 'im so maybe you won't have to break your promise."

She gave him a grateful warm smile.

The black man patted her hand before frowning down at Murdock. "Fool isn't _that_ good at hidin' it. Hanniball'l find out sometime."

Murdock began to stir, his eyelids half-opening, his brown eyes flickering to Cyndy and then to B. A. When his attempt at a smile elicited somber looks from both of them, he softly groaned.

"Okay, so I don' feel on top o' the world right now." He chose his words carefully as Hannibal joined them. "Pete jus' took me by surprise. I can still finish the job s'long as I'm not tossed 'round like a sack o' chicken feed." He gave each of them a determined glance before muttering, "Get me to my feet. Let 'em finish this rehearsal."

As B. A. and Cyndy helped him off the stage, he nodded his reassurance to Mrs. Bartleman. "The show mus' go on."


	35. Chapter 35 Reconciliations and Reports

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 35 Reconciliations and Reports

B. A. was in the barn continuing to repair the chassis of Cyndy's El Camino and beginning the body work on the door of Face's Corvette. Hannibal excused himself after their late supper to join him. Cyndy had a feeling the Colonel would be doing more than handing B. A. the tools he needed for repairs. She hoped B. A. would keep his implied promise to her and not let Hannibal pry information out of him.

Face and Cyndy were finishing the after supper cleanup. The lamp on the kitchen table made their shadows dance together even though the two were keeping an uncomfortable distance from each other as they washed and put dishes away.

From his place on the couch, Murdock observed the icy silence between them. He wanted to go to sleep. His queasy stomach was still deciding if it was going to digest the rice and beans he managed to eat a half hour ago under Cyndy's insistent supervision.

His body ached and the strained atmosphere in the kitchen was keeping him awake. Somehow he knew that whatever happened between Face and Cyndy to cause this quiet but intense disagreement involved him.

"We shoulda brought home some o' the armor 'n' a couple swords." He smiled when he saw both of them startle at the sound of his raspy voice.

_Least I got their attention. Now to find out what's up._

"Jus' thought you two reminded me of a couple o' tomcats 'bout to spit 'n' snarl if you crossed paths. Good ol'-fashioned duel'd do the job faster." He fixed his gaze on Face who returned it with an annoyed

look that seemed to say "this is none of your business."

"Why aren't you asleep yet?" Cyndy put down the dish cloth and came to sit in the chair nearest to him. Face turned his back on them and wiped the glass in his hands.

Murdock brushed away the cool hand she touched to his forehead. "Not tired."

_A tiny lie but I don' wanna see either of 'em hurtin'._

"You're really warm. I wouldn't be surprised if you weren't running a low grade fever." She kept her voice low so Face wouldn't hear.

"Mm-hm. Change the subject, Buttercup." He captured her gaze and shook his head slightly. He nodded toward the Lieutenant who was wiping down the table with the dish cloth. "What's up 'tween you?"

The indignant way she tossed back her hair before answering caught him by surprise. "Nothing is up between us. Absolutely nothing. And I told you to stop calling me Buttercup. Especially when you have someone else."

"O . . . okay." He frowned in confusion. "Force of habit, I guess." He scrutinized her flashing eyes and pursed lips. "Why're you so upset? Saw you'd been cryin' at the theater, too. What's goin' on?"

The warm glow of the oil lamp beside the couch lent the dining room a romantic cast. Her mood was anything but romantic.

"I don't like being pushed onto another guy when you couldn't tell me yourself you were spoken for. I'm not the world's ugliest sweater that you decide to give to someone else because you don't want me anymore." Her words were coming out faster and louder. He could tell she was close to tears again.

Face had finished with the kitchen work and strolled over to sit in the armchair at the foot of the couch. He looked miserable and angry.

Murdock didn't know what to say but he knew he had to try. "If you only knew how much I've been wishin' I'da been able to come back here after the war. But you deserve somethin' better than what I am. Much better. That's why I thought to ask Face to get acquainted with ya. He's the only one I could think of that'll treat you right, the way you deserve."

_Okay, that was a tiny white lie. I know what he's used to when it comes to women but he said he might love Cyndy. Hope he's right and she sees that. _

The pilot glanced at Face and saw his stunned expression. 

"D'ya think I'd let jus' anyone have my sweet lil' Buttercup?" he drawled and traced one of the tears on her cheek with his forefinger. "Now you two need some time to get reacquainted the right way. I'm feelin' kinda restless anyway. Think I'll wander out to the barn, see how the guys're doin'."

He forced himself into a sitting position and then pushed himself up. Black dots spotted his vision for a few moments and he knew he wobbled as he stuffed his feet into his tennies. He sensed their eyes following him as he wove his way toward the front door and the coolness of the moonlit evening.

The moonlight shone in through the Beaumont office window of Latreque Enterprises. Hollis sat in one of the chairs in front of his father's desk. The other chair was occupied by a security guard.

"I'm glad to see Mr. Empry thought enough of my kind referral to hire you, Deke. Tell me about this afternoon." Latreque leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers together under his chin as the uniformed man spoke.

"Well, I can tell you McKeever's kid's still alive, boss. I know what the ol' drunk tol' you but I saw him myself. Seems to know a lot about that display. He was talkin' to that girl that's playin' Lady Percy and another guy." Deke paused as Hollis spluttered something unintelligible in anger.

Finding his voice, the younger man raged, "Prob'ly same guy gave me the shiner 'n' messed me up at Cyndy's apartment."

Latreque raised a hand to stop the flow of words from his son. "Anythin' more to report?"

"Yeah. I been watchin' the McKeever boy. Somethin' ain't quite right with him. Had to leave the theater after rehearsal 'cause he blacked out on stage. Seemed to be stumblin' over his lines, too." Deke thought and then added, "Guys with him bandage his ribs 'fore he goes on stage. Seems to be takin' reg'lar doses of painkillers, too."

Latreque's eyes glittered. "Which means he's injured. Won't take much to cripple him and shut down opening night. Make it happen."

"What about his Pa? Wasn't he s'posed to make sure he never made it to the theater again?" Hollis raised his eyebrows.

"I believe Mr. McKeever has outlived his usefulness to me. He's likely crawled back to his bar stool. Deke, Hollis, I want you to go find him and tell him I want to see him as soon as possible."

As the two men left the office, Latreque opened his desk drawer and removed an envelope addressed to the Beaumont police department. Deep in thought, he tapped it on the edge of the desk and slowly started to smile.


	36. Chapter 36 An Evening's Walk

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

AN: The song "This Old Man (Knick-Knack, Paddywhack)" that Murdock sings whenever he fights the memory of his father is an old traditional children's song with ten verses.

Chapter 36 An Evening's Walk

He stepped down from the veranda and heard B. A.'s low rumbling voice and the clink of tools as Hannibal and he worked on one of the vehicles. Instead of turning toward the illuminated barn as he had told the couple in the farmhouse he would do, he directed his steps along the overgrown driveway.

_It's so quiet out here. Man could raise a family, have a happy home, never have to run from anythin' ever 'gain. Maybe Cyndy 'n' Face could do that. Maybe Cyndy **is** the right gal for my buddy. _

As Murdock began to walk along Grayburg Road toward Sour Lake, he wondered if he did enough to help Cyndy and Face reconcile their differences. He hoped somehow they would both forgive him for the mess he had made of things. He wasn't sure he could forgive himself for hurting them.

The evening breeze was a welcome comfort to his flushed face. He was glad he had not grabbed his jacket or his flannel shirt before leaving the house. Stuffing his hands in his pants pockets and kicking the roadside weeds as he went, he thought about Dani and life in Los Angeles.

_Maybe someday I'll leave that V. A. hospital, marry her 'n' come home. Wouldn't be a bad life. Already got the ol' homestead. _

He smiled thinking about it. Maybe even carrying her up on the veranda and into the house as a new bride, then up the stairs to his old room.

_Yeah, that'd be nice. We'll have lotsa kids. Buy some horses, a cow, chickens, get the farm up 'n' runnin' 'gain. Gramma 'n' Grampa'd be proud. _

He maintained an even pace. He knew it would be about three miles before he came to the cemetery. That first morning when they had arrived, he had jogged the three miles there and back. He realized he couldn't jog now but he could walk.

His Ma, Gramma and Grampa were there and he felt the need to sit beside their graves and talk to them. Maybe Billy would join in, tell him more about that place where they all loved and waited for him.

He felt a drop of moisture on his cheek and glanced up at the cloudless night sky. Brushing the drop away, he ignored the next three tears that squeezed from the corners of his eyes and down his cheeks.

_Look at all those stars. Dani'd be amazed. L. A. don' have night skies as pretty as this. We'd sit up in the ol' loft 'n' look out at the sky, her 'n' I. _

He started to hum "Fly Me To the Moon" under his breath until he felt his lungs crackle. Fishing in his pocket for the handkerchief, he barely got it to his mouth in time before the coughing began. He squeezed his eyes tightly and sank to his knees at the roadside. This fit lasted longer than any of the other ones. He almost felt as if his lung would come up with the bloody phlegm. After that, he vomited the rice and beans he had for supper. Weakened, he remained on his hands and knees for several minutes before staggering to his feet.

_Not that far to the cemetery. Billy, if you want me there, you're gonna have to help me._

He made his feet do what they needed to do to propel himself toward his destination. He focused on the next utility pole on his right and as he passed that one, he set his eyes on the next one. The feeling he was being followed came over him and he concentrated on moving his feet faster.

_I know where you are, boy. You're gonna be dead 'n' no one'll know or care. _

Murdock began to hum and then sing, forcing his feet to follow the rhythm of the song. "This old man, he played one, he played knick-knack on my thumb . . ." Anything to silence his father's voice.

Milholland Road was on his left when a familiar black van pulled up beside him and stopped.

"Murdock. What you doin' out here alone, fool?" B. A. leaned across the expanse and opened the passenger door. "Thought I'd never find you. Get in."

The pilot shook his head and kept singing and weaving down the shoulder of the road. "This old man, he played seven, he played knick-knack up in Heaven . . . "

"C'mon, man. It's too late to be takin' a walk. Where you think you're goin' anyway?" B. A. yelled from his window. With an impatient grunt, he shifted the van into park and got out. Jogging to catch up to the injured man ahead of him, he reached out a hand and gripped Murdock by the shoulder.

The Captain twisted around and swung wildly with his right fist, narrowly missing B. A.'s nose. Before he could follow up with his left, the black man grabbed his right arm and bent it behind his back. Murdock's breath came in short gasps as the Sergeant's other arm snaked around his waist, pinning the left arm to his side. He kept the arm lock on the pilot and pushed him toward the passenger's side of the van. Murdock squirmed and tried to dig his feet into the dirt.

When they got to the van, B. A. was breathing hard from the struggle the pilot had given him. He took a deep breath before reasoning with the obviously disoriented man. "You can ride jus' as easily as walk. Tell me where you need ta go an' I'll take you there. Jus' let me call Face on the mobile phone in the 'Vette. Cyndy and he's out lookin' for you, too."

Murdock's eyes were wild and frightened and for several seconds B. A. thought he would have to figure out a way to subdue him to get him in the vehicle.

At the mention of Face and Cyndy, the injured man regained some of his focus. "B. A.?" He peered uncertainly into the Sergeant's eyes. "Did I jus' take a swing at you?" His face was getting paler by the second and he was shivering. B. A. caught him as he lost consciousness and pitched forward into his arms.

"Poor fool," B. A. muttered as he made Murdock comfortable on the back floor of the van and shut the door.


	37. Chapter 37 Nurse Baracus

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 37 Nurse Baracus

When Murdock woke the next morning after another restless night, he tried to kick the blanket off only to find it firmly tucked around him. For a few seconds, he didn't know where he was. Not knowing increased the terror welling up inside him until he thought he would implode with its intensity.

The last thing he remembered was walking to the cemetery and feeling like his father was following him. He panicked.

_And then he grabbed me from behind. _

If McKeever was anywhere around and he was still alive, he had to figure out a way to escape or he wouldn't be alive for long. He willed himself to open his eyes. Dappled light fell across worn floorboards. One sunbeam slanted in and illuminated designs on the tin ceiling above him.

_Home? How'd I get back here?_

His eyes were blurry enough that he couldn't make out the details of anything. A dark-skinned bulk was seated in a chair near his head. The figure moved and Murdock heard the sound of water and a jangle of metal chains. Then something cold dabbed at his face.

He wanted to push the wet cloth away but couldn't move his arms from within the confining coccoon of the blanket. A series of violent coughs erupted from deep inside his chest forcing tears into his eyes.

"You 'wake?" The two words came from a familiar voice. A large hand with flashes of gold on the fingers wiped at the corners of his mouth. The cloth came away with clots of bloody mucus on it.

"B. A.?" Murdock groaned.

"You been burnin' hot all night. You're sick, man."

He closed his eyes and swallowed. Every joint in his body ached. "I been better," he agreed. He stared into B. A.'s concerned eyes before grimacing. "Cyndy tol' you, didn' she."

"Doesn't take a lotta brains to see it, fool. You been hidin' it pretty good but when you take a stroll late at night an' try to deck me . . . "

Murdock groaned again and squeezed his eyes shut. "I didn'!"

"Didn't getta chance to." B. A. let a rare smile flicker across his face. "'Sides, you too weak right now to do much. Cyndy didn't tell me nothin' I didn't wonder 'bout already."

The pilot pushed with his feet against the arm of the couch to try to wriggle out of the blankets around him.

"Stay put. Hannibal's orders." The Sergeant frowned and rinsed out the wash cloth in the basin beside him.

Murdock relaxed his muscles and let his head drop back onto the pillows. "Hannibal knows, too? Now I'm really in trouble."

B. A. nodded. "Face, too. He 'n' Cyndy stayed wit' you most o' the night after I got you back here."

"I can't miss dress rehearsal tonight, Big Guy. I gotta be there 'n' then we got openin' night on Friday 'n' five more performances after that." He started squirming again until fresh pain from his ribs froze him in place. A whimper escaped his lips before he could stop it.

"Do I gotta go get the Colonel to make you stay put? Yer hurtin' an' yer sick." The Sergeant crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at the injured man.

Murdock stared at him for a few seconds before sighing in defeat. "Alright. You got me so wrapped up in these blankets, can't get loose anyway. Face sleepin'? Wanna talk to him."

"Faceman an' Cyndy went into town to get some more apple juice, beef an' chicken broth an' jello. When they get back, you're gonna eat, then you're gonna rest. Got it?" B. A. leaned in closer with a menacing snarl on his lips.

The pilot shrank back. "Got it, ya big mudsucker." Then he gave the Sergeant a mischievous grin. "So do I get ta call ya Nurse Baracus now?"

B. A. shook his head and growled his disapproval.

ooooooo

As Face took bags of groceries from Cyndy and stowed them in the trunk of his Corvette, a white Ford Bronco pulled up on the opposite side of the street from the grocery store lot. Seconds later a light blue Mercury Cougar parked behind it.

Deke left the driver's side of the Cougar and strolled up to the open window of the truck. "Mr. Latreque wants to see you 'bout your boy, McKeever."

McKeever swiped a hand across his mouth and capped the bottle of whiskey, tucking it under the seat. "Got no more to talk 'bout with him. Boy's dead. Our deal's done."

The pseudo security guard laughed softly. "Mr. Latreque wants to see you anyway. Something 'bout loose ends. Now you can try to run 'n' hide but I think you know that Mr. Latreque gets what he wants all the time."

Giving Deke an apprehensive glance, McKeever nodded. "I'm goin' right now." He pulled his Bronco out into traffic with the other car following.

Deke glanced at Hollis and smirked. "Your Pa 's a smart business man. Knows when to hire and when to fire. McKeever's fired."

Several minutes later, both vehicles parked in the Latreque Enterprises lot. McKeever left his truck and swayed toward the building's entrance. He glanced over his shoulder with uncertainty at the two men in the Cougar before opening the door and disappearing inside.

"Aren't we gonna make sure he gets to my Pa's office?" Hollis frowned as the security guard shook his head.

"I'm sure McKeever wants this chapter of his sorry life to be over. He'll get there." Deke smiled as he eased the car into traffic and headed toward the Nederland Community Playhouse. "I have an idea 'bout how to shut down tomorrow's performance. If no one's 'round, should be easy."

"How you gonna do that?" Hollis tapped his fingers impatiently on the passenger's side arm rest.

"Didn't your Pa ever tell you the less you know the better?" Deke shot Hollis a cold glare. Hollis gulped. "All you have to do is exactly what I tell you and that McKeever kid'll never perform on stage again."


	38. Chapter 38 Loose Ends

Death Waits In the Wings

AN: Rated T for graphic descriptions of violence.

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 38 Loose Ends

Harley McKeever drew in a deep breath before rapping at the office door bearing the name of J. M. Latreque. Why the man would want to see him after he had done his job, and quite well he thought, was beyond him.

_'Less he's gonna pay me for what I did. Man like him can afford to pay some money for helpin' him get what he wants. _

McKeever swiped his sleeve across his mouth. Just thinking about the money made him thirsty. He knocked on the glass of the door and listened.

"Enter."

As soon as he closed the door behind him and saw Latreque's face, he knew something was wrong. The man scowled but did not offer a seat.

For minutes, the man behind the desk scrutinized McKeever. Finally he picked up a pen and examined it closely as he began to talk.

"I had something special I wanted you to do for me. Do you remember what that was?" Latreque's voice was calm, chilling in its tone.

"I done what you tol' me 'n' with pleasure. The boy's dead sure as I'm standin' here talkin' to ya." McKeever tried to sound sure of himself. He began to fidget as Latreque continued to stare bleakly at the pen in his hands.

"And what'd I say I'd do if the job wasn't done 'fore openin' night?"

"Job's done! I buried him myself. Made sure he couldn't get outta that grave." McKeever's eyes darted around the office as if expecting Murdock's ghost to appear.

"Well, then he was resurrected from the dead. Deke said he saw that boy o' yours at the theater last night rehearsin'."

The drunken man's mouth gaped open. "He was as good as dead! Condition he was in he couldn't a dug his way out."

The businessman smiled and shrugged. "Obviously he did. You don't get a second chance. Hollis and Deke will do what you couldn't." Latreque smiled again and picked up an envelope. He glanced at the address on the outside and then up at the man in front of him.

"What're you gonna do?" McKeever's eyes narrowed with fear as he peered at the envelope and then at the man holding it.

"I told you I had something that would put you away in the federal pen for a very long while. See, most people 'round these parts figure Beau Delton moved out to California twenty years ago." Latreque's gaze bored into the man standing before him. "But we both know that's not what really happened, is it?"

McKeever tried to laugh but the sound he made was more a choking gurgle. "Beau Delton. Now _there's_ a name I haven't heard for a while. Really don' know what came of him. Should I?"

"Depends on how good your memory is. You remember that maroon Pontiac Catalina you sold to Harris Lahman back in 64?"

The drunken man's eyes shifted to the envelope. "Good car. Gotta real good price for it."

"Harris Lahman works for me. Why'd you think he was so interested in buyin' that car? You became more than a blip on my radar when you and Delton started makin' those runs over to Lakes Charles with your trunk full a moonshine. Cut into my business pretty good for a while."

McKeever chuckled when he heard the accusation. "Prove it. 'Sides, the cops won't be interested somethin' like that goes back that far."

Latreque gave him a chilling smile and tapped the envelope against the blotter on his desk.

"Gotta wonder why Delton disappeared so quickly."

McKeever felt the trickle of sweat down his back. He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. "Wanted to move on. We weren't kids anymore."

"You still don' get it, do you? Lahman still has that Catalina stored 'way in a garage. Bloodstains're still there in the trunk. Can't ever get rid of 'em completely, can you?" Latreque watched the man pale, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"Can't prove it ain't blood from a critter." McKeever's voice was a hoarse rasp. His gaze flickered around the room and landed back on the man at the desk and the envelope.

"There was a witness. One of my men over in Lake Charles. Had his signed and witnessed account sitting in my safe for 'bout twenty years waitin' on a chance to use it. You crossed state lines with a corpse in your trunk. He saw what you did, followed you 'n' tol' me soon as you went out to the Murdock place. What'd you think I meant when I said I had 'nough to send you 'way?" Latreque stood and leaned across his desk, the incriminating envelope under his right hand.

When McKeever moved, it wasn't with the staggering awkwardness of a drunken man but with the deparation of a man fighting for his life. Gripping Latreque by the hair on the back of his head, the panicked man smashed the business owner's forehead onto the glass plating of the desktop. He reached out and gripped a softball-sized marble paperweight in his right hand. Raining blow after blow on the back of the man's skull, he did not stop until he could see skull fragments and gray matter flecking the stone.

Latreque's body went limp and fell to the floor behind the desk. With the body went the envelope, the blotter and many of the desk accessories.

McKeever's eyes widened and his breaths came in ragged gasps. He peered over the desktop at the businessman. Blood trickled from the mouth, nose and ears. The man's eyes glared up in a horrified fixed stare. The drunken man edged around the desk, trying to avoid the lifeless gaze, and picked up the envelope from beside the body.

Ripping it open, he glanced at the text of the folded page within. He found what he was looking for at the bottom of the testimony.

"Deke Winton." McKeever stuffed the envelope and page in his pants pocket and staggered from the office and down the stairs to his truck.


	39. Chapter 39 Full Dress Rehearsal

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 39 Full Dress Rehearsal

The sun set over Nederland, its waning glow tinging the houses and streets golden. Wisps of black smoke curled into the air from under a partially open garage door. Flames danced along the drapes in the living room window of the adjoining house. Harley McKeever stuck his head out from the kitchen door and peered around at the neighborhood before working his way to the alley. His Bronco was parked two blocks away and he had more loose ends to take care of before he could start on his way to Canada.

ooooooo

Drifting in and out of sleep, bad dreams interrupted only by uncontrollable coughing fits and vomiting, Murdock woke when someone sat down in the kitchen chair beside the couch. The blankets had been loosened around him and his arms rested outside the covers at his sides. The late afternoon sun gradually receded across the kitchen linoleum.

"Face?" His throat felt like he had swallowed cotton wool. He gulped several times to try to clear it but could not work up enough saliva to moisten his mouth.

Cyndy leaned forward from the armchair at the other end of the couch, her troubled expressive eyes monitoring his condition. She nodded to Face.

The Lieutenant slid his arm under Murdock's back to prop him into a semi-sitting position against the pillows. From a small table set up beside the couch, he took a bottle of water, uncapped it and held it to the injured man's lips.

"Sip it slowly," he warned.

Murdock took a small swallow and shook his head. "No more." He focused on his friend's face. "Rehearsal?"

"Depends on when you're able. Why didn't you let anyone else besides Cyndy know?" Face continued on before Murdock could answer. "Because you're stubborn. You'd sooner die than let anyone down when we have a mission to complete." The Lieutenant let out his breath in an exasperated sigh and glared at the pilot.

The injured man slung his right arm over his eyes to avoid the accusing stare. He murmured, "You, B. A., Hannibal, y'all'd do the same if you was me. 'Sides, didn' know it'd get this bad 'til a couple a days 'go."

_Hope Gramma'll forgive me that little white lie. 'Course I knew how bad it was. Billy tol' me what's happenin' to me._

"Hannibal told Mrs. Bartleman. They're both very worried about you, H. M." Cyndy moved to sit beside him on the couch. She pulled his arm down to force eye contact.

"Full dress rehearsal tonight. Can't miss it." He made himself breathe evenly and forced down the coughs ready to explode from him. Instead of forming tears, his eyes burned with the effort.

"Are you able?" Cyndy touched her hand to his forehead and cast a worried glance at Face.

"Try 'n' stop me." He pushed her hand away. "Look, I been sleepin' for most o' the day so I'm rested up. Give me some painkillers, wrap my ribs, I'm good ta go."

"I'll let Hannibal and B. A. know you're awake." Face stood and moved toward the door.

Cyndy patted Murdock's hand and rose to her feet. "I'll go with you."

As Face slipped his arm around Cyndy's waist and she leaned into him and gave him a kiss, Murdock smiled his relief.

_They musta worked things out. Good. Get done with this job, maybe Face 'n' Cyndy can find a way to settle down, have a good life together. _

He thought of Dani and wondered if he dared to have that same dream for them. The coughs he had suppressed began as soon as the couple left and were out of hearing distance. When Hannibal and B. A. came to help him to the van, he had already cleaned up the watery vomit and blood. He hoped what he felt on the inside was not noticeable on the outside.

Hannibal scrutinized him before leaning down to help him into a standing position. "We _will_ talk about this later, Captain. Be sure of that."

Murdock weakly nodded and braced himself for the pain he knew would accompany him throughout the night.

Several minutes later, B. A. steered the van past a darkened Nederland street illuminated only by the pulsing flashes of an emergency rescue vehicle and fire trucks. Black smoke billowed and orange flames licked the sky. The passengers in the van squinted toward the silhouettes of the hook and ladder and firefighters as they battled the house and garage fire.

The theater cast and crew were already preparing for the evening's full dress rehearsal when they arrived and entered through the side door.

Mrs. Bartleman scanned Murdock as soon as she spotted him backstage. She took in his ashen bruised face and emaciated appearance and pursed her lips in concern.

"Ready to be suited up, Mrs. B." He gave her a lopsided grin and a quick sideways hug.

She pointed to the waiting wardrobe manager and watched as he drifted toward the costume area on unsteady feet.

Turning to Hannibal, she raised her eyebrows. "Is he sure he can manage?"

"He told me he will. He'll do whatever it takes to keep this theater open." The Colonel glanced toward the alcove. "Is that weapons and armor display secure? I notice one of the guards seems to be more interested in what's going on in here."

The security guard stared toward the stage intent upon the pieces of wardrobe and the props being handed out for the beginning of the play. When he noticed Hannibal's steely gaze, he meandered toward the door leading to the display.

"Yes. Mr. Empry's security has been here day and night. The medieval armor and weapons are far too valuable to leave them here unwatched." She glanced back in puzzlement but the guard had disappeared. Clutching her script in her hands, she began to clear the stage for the first scene.

Hannibal gestured for Face and B. A. to meet him in front of the far end of the stage.

His hand wandered to the breast pocket of his jacket before he remembered he could not light a cigar in the theater. He met B. A.'s eyes. "I have a hunch someone's going to try to disrupt this dress rehearsal. If tomorrow night's performance takes place, Latreque knows he won't stand a chance of shutting the theater down. I want you to watch Murdock especially. Hurting the way he is and with his father still somewhere out there waiting to kill him, he might be the one Latreque targets. I'm sure Miss Berquon will help you with the medical needs."

B. A. nodded and stalked backstage to find Murdock.

Hannibal turned to Face. "Something's not quite right about the security guard who's on duty tonight. He seems overly curious about who's on stage. Check him out but be discreet about it."

"What'll you be doing, Hannibal?"

The Colonel frowned as the curtain opened to the back drop of Westminster Palace and King Henry IV began to speak to Lord John of Lancaster and Ralph Neville, the Earl of Westmorland. "Trying to make sure nothing happens onstage that's not supposed to."


	40. Chapter 40 Identified

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 40 Identified

"'Sit, Cousin Percy, sit, good cousin Hotspur,  
For by that name as oft as Lancaster  
Doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale, and with  
A rising sigh he wisheth you in heaven.'"

Hannibal observed the small facial twitch in Murdock's features as the man portraying the Welsh chieftain spoke. The Colonel wondered if the pilot was thinking of his own father's death wish for him when he heard those words

The Captain swallowed hard and answered. "'And you in hell, as often as he hears  
Owen Glendower spoke of.'"

_We've got your back, Murdock. Don't think about your father. Think about your lines. _

Hannibal was relieved when Murdock carefully lowered himself to sit on the floor with the men portraying Lord Mortimer and Thomas Percy, the Earl of Worcester. As they listened to the boasting done by Owen Glendower, Murdock shifted in position to make himself more comfortable. The Colonel noticed a small grimace cross the younger man's face.

_Hang in there, Murdock. _

"'I can call spirits from the vasty deep,'" the Welsh chieftain taunted.

Murdock rose, trying to prevent the painful shudder from being noticeable, gave Tim Lourdon a grim smile and responded in a challenging tone. "'Why so can I, or so can any man,  
But will they come when you do call for them?'"

Hannibal had listened to this scene from the third act several times over the past two weeks but the words hadn't struck him as significant until now.

_I wonder if just by coming back to his grandparents' farm, Murdock didn't summon up the darkest spirits from his own past._

Lourdon thrust out his chest and lifted his chin in an air of boastfulness. "'Why I can teach you, cousin, to command  
The devil.'"

Murdock planted his own feet shoulder-width apart and gave Lourdon an unflinching glare. He tossed back the brocade cape from around his shoulders and punctuated his sentences with a finger that jabbed the empty air between them.

"'And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the devil,  
By telling truth. Tell truth and shame the devil.  
If you have power to raise him bring him hither,  
And I'll be sworn I have power to shame him hence.  
O while you live tell truth and shame the devil!'"

Hannibal examined Murdock's resolute expression, pancake makeup hiding most of the bruise on the side of his face, and questioned how many of those words the man believed.

_He has a devil for a father and the power to put that devil away for life and never be threatened again. Will he be able to tell the truth and do that when it's time? _

The Colonel sat back in the theater seat. Everyone was moving around stage according to Mrs. Bartleman's stage directions. Nothing was out of place. Nothing unusual had occurred yet to disturb the dress rehearsal but Hannibal could not rid himself of the nagging suspicion something was going to happen.

At least Murdock was doing well onstage. From all outer appearances, he seemed strong and focused. Hannibal knew from B. A.'s report between the second and third acts how much the effort to look capable was draining the pilot. After each of his scenes, Murdock spent time in the parking lot, coughs and dry heaves seizing his entire body.

"Fool's so weak he can hardly stand up. Don't see how he's made it this far." The powerful black man shook his head before returning backstage to check that the injured man was applying an ice pack to his ribs and sitting down.

Hannibal closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose in thought. He had listened to the pilot rehearsing his lines so often, he could step in and take over as a type of understudy.

_But Murdock will not accept that. It will do more damage to his psyche than the rehearsal itself is doing to his physical body. He needs to finish this on his own. _

Looking for Face to come back and report, the Colonel glanced at the theater door leading to the alcove.

He frowned as Lourdon returned to the stage escorting Cynthia and the woman portraying Lady Mortimer on each arm.

Cynthia scrutinized Murdock while the actors portraying Edmund Mortimer and Owen Glendower spoke with Lady Mortimer. The pilot pretended to listen intently to their conversation but continued to glance at Cyndy as if to gain strength to endure through the end of the scene. As the couple delivered their lines and departed from the stage, Hannibal noticed the hunched shoulders and the way Murdock leaned lightly on Cyndy.

"How's he doing, Colonel?" Face settled into the seat beside Hannibal.

"He's holding up for now but we haven't gotten to the sword fight yet." He scanned the younger man's triumphant expression and gestured toward the alcove with his head. "So what's our friend up to back there?"

"As soon as I got back there, he was all business. I managed to secure this, though." Face reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a wallet. Handing it to Hannibal, he smiled.

"I'm not going to ask how you got hold of this. In another life, you must have made one fine pickpocket, Lieutenant." The Colonel opened the billfold.

"Driver's license says Deke Joseph Winton." He pulled out a business card and turned it over in his hands. "Latreque Enterprises. There's a Nederland address and a phone number on the back." Hannibal looked in the bill section of the wallet and pulled out several hundred dollar bills. Giving a low whistle under his breath, he glanced at Face. "I'd say about two thousand dollars here. What would a security guard would be doing carrying around this much change? I think after rehearsal we should follow our man and see where he goes and who he's with."

"Want to bet he reports directly to Latreque?"

"Oh, I have no doubts about it, Lieutenant. The question is when and how he's going to make his move." Putting everything but the card back into the wallet, Hannibal handed it to the conman.

"Return it to its owner, Colonel?" Face raised his eyebrows.

"If you can without drawing suspicion to yourself." The Colonel pocketed the business card.

"Piece of cake."

"Face, sometimes you scare me with how well you do these things."

"Colonel, sometimes I scare myself." The Lieutenant stood and stretched before walking back up the aisle toward the alcove doors.

Hannibal turned his attention back toward the stage as Evan Dunlow and Dr. Freedman, the Beaumont physician playing King Henry IV, appeared on stage for the second scene of the third act. The Colonel chuckled to himself.

Dr. Freedman was an avid campaigner against smoking of any kind. The Prince of Wales, Evan Dunlow, was a chain smoker. He disregarded Hannibal's warning and sneaked out between scenes to take a break whenever he could, often alone.

The Colonel made a point of joining Dunlow outside whenever he noticed him missing but not even he could be there all the time. Both Hannibal and Dunlow heard the doctor's lecture the first time he discovered them in the theater parking lot enjoying a smoke together, the Colonel with his cigar and Evan with his cigarette.

_If ever there was a mismatched pair of characters, those two are it. _

Hannibal shook his head. If he didn't have to watch for anything unusual on stage, he would go with Dunlow between the third and fourth acts to smoke his cigar. He hoped Dunlow would at least try to get someone to go with him. Murdock would be onstage at the beginning of the fourth act and if the Colonel's suspicions were warranted, he needed to stay in the theater to keep his man safe.


	41. Chapter 41 Die Merrily?

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

AN: In Hotspur's lines, a 'corse' is a 'corpse.'

Chapter 41 Die Merrily?

Act four of _Henry IV_ opened with the backdrop of the rebel encampment. As Murdock came onstage, speaking to Trent McDermond who portrayed Archibald, Earl of Douglas, Hannibal noticed a slight wobble to the pilot's steps.

Six more scenes remained until the sword fight and Hotspur's famous death monologue. Of them, Murdock had to be on his feet for this one and two others.

_But will he last through the next few scenes? And what about the sword fight itself? _

Orville Galaham, otherwise known as Thomas Percy, Earl of Worcester, joined them. Nothing out of the ordinary so far. When the messenger came onstage with the letter from Hotspur's ill father, Hannibal observed a feverish glint to Murdock's eyes as he delivered his lines.

"'Sick now? droop now? This sickness doth infect  
The very life-blood of our enterprise.  
'Tis catching hither, even to our camp.'"

_So far Murdock's condition isn't affecting his performance, at least not in very noticeable ways. If I weren't watching him so closely, I wouldn't think he was injured or sick at all. But how long can this last? _

Murdock was pacing back and forth on the stage as he spoke his lines. Some of his agitated movements were part of the stage directions. Hannibal couldn't help but think that the fire in his steps was in itself a performance to prove himself able to continue.

"I am on fire  
To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh,  
And yet not ours. Come let me taste my horse,  
Who is to bear me like a thunderbolt  
Against the bosom of the Prince of Wales.  
Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse,  
Meet and ne'er part till one drop down a corse.'"

Hearing those words, Hannibal remembered the audition with Hollis Latreque. That bit of swordplay nearly gave the pilot a concussion. If the Colonel had not befriended Evan Dunlow and known him to be a good swordsman, he would be concerned. As it were, Hannibal and Mrs. Bartleman had worked together to modify the stage directions so Murdock would not injure himself through the moves he would have to make.

Murdock's impassioned voice cut through Hannibal's thoughts. It was the same line that made Face shudder the night before the audition when he helped the Captain rehearse. When the Colonel glanced at the injured man, he realized how much a premonition the words might seem to someone who had been buried alive by his own murderous father.

"'Doomsday is near, die all, die merrily.'"

If Hannibal wasn't mistaken, the pilot shivered slightly.

Then McDermond, the Earl of Douglas, said, "'Talk not of dying. I am out of fear  
Of death or death's hand for this one half-year.'"

As the actors left the stage and the curtain dropped so the backdrop for the next scene could be lowered, Face returned from the alcove.

"Winton has his wallet back and he's none the wiser." The Lieutenant dropped down into the seat beside Hannibal and laced his hands together behind his head. "Good thing I got it back to him when I did. There was a shift change and Winton left for a few hours. He won't be back until later tonight."

The Colonel frowned. "You saw him leave?"

"I didn't walk out to the parking lot with him, if that's what you mean. He and I aren't exactly close personal friends, after all." Face examined Hannibal's worried expression and sighed. "I guess I can go out there and make sure his vehicle isn't still here."

The Colonel nodded. "While you're at it, get the keys from B. A. and take the van for a cruise past the address on this card. Park down the block from there and call to see who answers, okay? I think we need to know who, besides Latreque, Winton has been doing business with."

Face took the business card and made his way backstage while Hannibal watched Pete Stollmeier utter his soliloquy. Dunlow and the actor portraying Ralph Neville, Earl of Westmorland, joined him for the last of the second scene of act four. After this scene, Hannibal knew Evan often took an extended break in the parking lot until he was needed for the first scene of act five. He wished he could join him.

B. A. approached, a scowl creasing his forehead. "Murdock collapsed on the floor soon as he came backstage. Face an' Cyndy's with 'im but he's sayin' things that're crazy even for him. Don't know if he's gonna make it through this, Hannibal."

Even as the black man finished, the Colonel was on the move backstage. Face and Cyndy knelt on either side of Murdock. Cyndy swabbed his forehead with a wet washcloth and flashed Hannibal a tense glance as he drew closer. A small knot of cast members huddled and spoke in hushed voices nearby.

"I'll take over, Lieutenant." The Colonel placed a hand on Face's shoulder when he hesitated. "He'll be alright. Go take care of the business I asked you to do."

Face gave Cyndy a grim look before rising and leaving through the back stage door.

"Billy . . . Gramma . . . Don' leave me. Take me . . . with you." Murdock squeezed his eyes tighter as he whispered the words.

"Captain." Hannibal knelt, his knees protesting with popping sounds as he did.

At the sound of the Colonel's voice, the pilot fell silent.

"I know you can hear me, Captain. Have you forgotten the job you have to do here? You can't leave until that's done." Cyndy glared at him with distraught eyes but Hannibal ignored her. "You will finish your job. That's an order."

As he knew it would, those words achieved the desired effect. Murdock struggled to open his eyes, a grimace betraying his effort.

"That's right. Come on back to us. You don't have much more to do tonight before you can go back to the farm and rest up for tomorrow." Hannibal let his tone soften.

When the injured man opened his eyes, the Colonel silently cursed and put a hand to his burning hot forehead. Pneumonia maybe?

His gaze feverishly searching Hannibal's face, his breath coming in short rapid pants, Murdock whispered, "Trang chủ?"

"No, not home, not yet. Remember what you said once? You have a lot more revs in the old engine before that will happen." The Colonel kept his voice calm and reassuring. He didn't need the young lady across from him to start crying.

He was relieved when he saw the Captain slowly nod his head and glance at Cyndy, understanding the need for calm, before fixing his gaze back on Hannibal.

"Get me up on my feet then, 'kay?" he rasped.


	42. Chapter 42 Evidence Destroyed

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

AN: A tabard was a short coat which was open at the sides and belted. It bore the coat of arms of the person wearing it and not only distinguished one faction from another on the battlefield but hid chinks in the armor underneath which an opponent might target.

Chapter 42 Evidence Destroyed

The first thing Face noticed when he left the theater was that all but one of the vehicles in the parking lot belonged either to the cast or the crew. The old dark blue truck at the end of the line of cars probably belonged to the security guard on duty. Either Deke Winton walked to the theater for his shift or he had driven home.

Face pulled out onto Nederland Avenue and headed southwest. The address on the back of the business card said 103 North 22nd Street. As he passed a car wash and several fast food and pizza joints, he wondered why Hannibal was so concerned about the security guard. Besides recognizing Murdock and seeming to have an interest in the rehearsals, Winton had done nothing else to warrant suspicion.

Approaching the street on the card, the Lieutenant slowed and signaled to make a right turn. Almost immediately, he spotted the number 101 in vinyl letters tacked on a wooden fence around the yard of a small dark green house.

A fire truck stood in the street in front of 103 North 22nd. Its lights illuminated the early evening, casting an eerie gloom over the setting.

Firefighters sifted through the remains of two structures. A car, an old Pontiac Catalina from what Face could tell, sat on the poured foundation of the garage. Its paint had bubbled and soot covered its windows. The trunk gaped open. The house adjoining the garage was a mass of blackened timbers and barely recognizable furniture.

Curious neighbors clustered across the street, intently watching every movement the firefighters made.

Face slowed and rolled down the window.

Gesturing toward the charred and smoking remains, he asked, "What's up?"

An elderly man, leaning heavily on a cane as he spoke, answered him. "Looked out our window more'n two hours 'go 'n' saw the whole thing goin' up. Man by the name of Harris Lahman owned the place. Worked for J. M. Latreque, Latreque Enterprises, up in Beaumont."

"Nice man. Always one to help his neighbors with odd jobs. They took 'im out of the driver's seat of that Catalina a while ago," his wife added and shivered.

"That car musta been his pride 'n' joy. Didn't ever leave the garage with it." The couple returned to stare transfixed at the smoldering ruins.

"Thanks for the info." Face forced a smile and continued on, turned right on Boston Avenue and made his way back to Nederland Avenue. Just before turning onto Nederland to head back to the theater, he punched in the telephone number on the card.

No ring tone. Nothing.

And probably not a coincidence that the address he was asked to find belonged to the burning house and garage they saw on their way to the theater. Whoever Winton knew at that address and telephone number was dead and Face suspected it was not an accident. The security guard had been on duty when the fire started and the only other people Face knew were involved with Latreque was Hollis and Murdock's father.

He sensed the sudden need to get back to the theater as quickly as he could. As he turned into the parking lot, he noticed an unfamiliar light blue Mercury Cougar parked in front of the theater.

_Maybe Winton? But why is he back so soon? Unless he's up to something. _

Face parked the van and, giving a quick glance in the car and around the parking lot, walked through the front door and the alcove to the theater auditorium. Murdock was on stage with the men playing the roles of Sir Richard Vernon, Thomas Percy and the Earl of Douglas. All were dressed in chain mail, tabards overlaying the armor. Each man held a bascinet between his body and the crook of his elbow and a sword in his hand.

A messenger approached from the side wing. "'My lord, here are letters for you.'"

Murdock turned toward the speaker and waved his hand in dismissal.

"'I cannot read them now.  
O gentlemen, the time of life is short.  
To spend that shortness basely were too long,  
If life did ride upon a dial's point,  
Still ending at the arrival of an hour.  
And if we live, we live to tread on kings,  
If die, brave death, when princes die with us!  
Now, for our consciences, the arms are fair

When the intent of bearing them is just.'"

For anyone unfamiliar with how Murdock usually sounded when delivering his lines, he may have sounded menacing. Face heard the strain in his friend's tone and realized he was pushing the limits of his endurance. Seeing Hannibal seated in the front row where he had been for most of the evening, the Lieutenant hurried down the aisle toward him.

As soon as Face sat down, the Colonel glanced at him, his expression grim. "Report, Lieutenant."

"Winton left for a while but I think he may be back. There was an unfamiliar dark blue truck parked in the lot when I left which I took to belong to the guard that had this shift. When I came back, a light blue Mercury Cougar was parked in front. He wasn't in the car and I didn't see him in the parking lot." Face paused for breath while Hannibal considered what he said.

"What about the address and phone number?"

"A Harris Lahman used to live there. When I called the number, I got dead air space. The place was still smoldering when I arrived. The firefighters were making sure the fire was out. The neighbors told me Lahman used to work for Latreque."

"Used to?" Hannibal raised his eyebrows. On stage Trent McDermond, the Earl of Douglas, fought with the actor portraying Sir Walter Blunt. Moments after Blunt fell to the stage in mock death, Murdock entered from the wing to stand with McDermond and identify the fallen man.

"Found him in the garage sitting in a car like Murdock said his father used to drive."

"Dead?"

"I don't know. It sounded like it. I didn't want to appear too curious." Face stared up at Murdock on the stage finishing his scene with Trent McDermond, the Earl of Douglas. "Think it could've been his father who set the fire?"

"If he did, he was trying to destroy evidence. Remember Murdock said he thought Beau Delton's body was in the trunk of a Catalina? That means McKeever's desperate." The Colonel watched as Murdock shuffled offstage, dragging his feet with effort.

Face added, "And desperate men do desperate things."

Hannibal nodded as Falstaff came on stage to deliver his soliloquy over Sir Walter Blunt's body. "We have to make sure McKeever doesn't get the chance."


	43. Chapter 43 Something Wrong

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

AN: The chain mail coif was like a hood that covered the head and draped over the upper back, upper chest and shoulders but left the face uncovered. The bascinet was a helmet often with a visor which could either be raised or lowered or sometimes removed for ventilation.

Chapter 43 Something Wrong

"'What, stand'st thou idle here? Lend me thy sword.  
Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff  
Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies,  
Whose deaths are yet unreveng'd. I prithee lend me thy sword.'"

The Prince of Wales, his chain mail coif and visored bascinet concealing most of his face, strode on stage and addressed Falstaff, better known as Pete Stollmeier.

At the sound of the young man's voice Hannibal straightened in his seat and cocked his head to listen.

"Something wrong, Colonel?" Face sensed the sudden tension in the older man and turned his gaze toward the actors.

Hannibal held out his hand toward the Lieutenant to silence him and squinted at the men on stage.

Pete answered the Prince. "'O Hal, I prithee give me leave to breathe awhile. Turk Gregory never did such deeds in arms as I have done this day. I have paid Percy, I have made him sure.'"

"'He is indeed, and living to kill thee. I prithee lend me thy sword,'" the Prince responded, keeping his face in profile to the audience.

"The build's similar. I can't see the face well enough but the voice doesn't sound right." The Colonel continued to scrutinize the actor.

"Maybe it's the helmet muffling the sound?" Face glanced at Hannibal, then back at the Prince. "After all, it's the first time they've rehearsed in full costume."

Hannibal frowned. "Go to the alcove. See if any of the swords are missing. If they aren't, go back stage and find out if our Prince took his cigarette break and if anyone went with him."

Face left and the Colonel continued to listen. The voice was similar but there were inflections in it that he recognized from somewhere else. He hoped he was wrong.

ooooo

Face glanced over the sword collection and saw that every weapon was in its place. He drew the guard aside. "Did you see anyone paying special attention to the collection since you came on duty?"

"Things've been quiet back here. The only ones who've removed anythin' was the wardrobe woman and her assistant and they took only the helmets and the chain mail they were supposed to use. Why? Somethin' wrong?"

The guard was a man with graying streaks in his hair and a well-rounded belly. Face had met him during one of his shifts and knew him to be a retired cop looking to make a little extra money. He could be trouble if he figured out who Hannibal, Face and B. A. were but so far his only concern was the job Empry had him doing. He had not identified them as far as the Lieutenant could tell and he hoped it would remain that way.

"No, nothing solid. This display would be an excellent target for someone wanting to shut down the theater. Mrs. Bartleman was a little worried." Face chuckled and clapped the guard on the shoulder. "Opening night jitters. You know how it is."

The guard nodded and smirked. "Tell Mrs. Bartleman there's nothin' to worry 'bout s'long as I'm on duty. I've been Mr. Empry's head o' security for ten years since I retired from the force. Nothin's gonna get past me."

Face's gaze fell on the sword Murdock had used to compare with the prop sword. As the security guard moved on, the Lieutenant peered closer at the blade. Something wasn't right and with a sinking feeling in his stomach, Face realized what it was. He rushed through the door to tell Hannibal and alert B. A. and Murdock.

oooooo

"Here, lemme help you wit' that." B. A. took the chain mail coif from Murdock's shaking hands and carefully fit it over the padded liner in place around the pilot's head.

"I'm already gettin' too hot with this on," he complained as he sat resting with an ice pack on his ribs. Cyndy pressed a bottle of water and two pills into his hand. Giving her a half smile, he downed the pills with a gulp of water. "You shoulda been a nurse, Cyndy. Woulda done real good."

She smiled back at him but he noted the small frown puckering her brow.

"I'm okay, sweetie. Soon as I get through the death scene, I'll relax." He tweaked the tip of her nose with his forefinger and tried to grin.

B. A. grunted his disapproval. "You jus' make sure that ain't a real death scene, fool." He scowled down at the pilot. "I ain't gonna be left takin' care o' your fool invisible dog." As soon as he said it, he knew he had made a mistake.

Murdock's eyes met his and for a moment, B. A. saw a trace of sadness. Then the injured man shrugged and muttered, "You won't have to ever 'gain after this job."

As the black man tried to figure out how to answer, the crew raised the backdrop for the second scene and replaced it with that for the third scene.

"Time's gettin' closer," Murdock commented as the actors in the roles of King Henry, Prince John of Lancaster and Ralph Neville, Earl of Westmorland, passed by in costume. The Prince of Wales followed, his sword sheathed at his side. He glared over his shoulder at the Captain before moving on. Murdock met the look with a puzzled frown.

"You _will_ be alright, won't you, H. M.?" Cyndy grasped his hand in hers and held it to her cheek. It was the only way she knew to unobtrusively gauge his temperature. He refused to allow her to put a thermometer in his mouth or touch his forehead.

He gently squeezed her fingers and kissed the back of her hand. "S'long as Evan don' stab me and Pete and he stick to the new stage directions, I'll be fine. Now let me rehearse my lines 'fore I gotta go get killed, 'kay?" He kissed her hand again and leaned back in the chair, shutting his eyes. His lips moved but Cyndy could tell none of his silent words were related to the play.


	44. Chapter 44 Death Scene

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 44 Death Scene

The sounds of Trent McDermond as the Earl of Douglas engaged in a sword fight with the Prince of Wales drifted backstage.

Murdock's eyelids snapped open. "It's almost time for my entrance. Get me up, Big Guy, 'kay?" He gripped the bascinet and settled it in place over the chain mail coif. Placing the partially melted bag of ice on the floor beside him, he straightened up in the chair. He clenched his teeth with the movement and clutched his upper abdomen.

B. A. knelt down and draped the pilot's arm over his shoulders before rising to his feet. The gasp that escaped the injured man's lips drew Cyndy's attention. Standing directly in front of him, blocking his path, she grasped his hand and shook her head. "You can't do this, H. M. It's too much for Hannibal and Mrs. Bartleman to ask. Please, you can't!"

She drew closer and, gingerly embracing him, rested her head on his chest. "Please?"

He held her near in awkward silence for a few seconds, begging B. A. with his eyes to help him. The muscular Sergeant gently took her by the arms and stepped back.

"He's gotta, lil' sis. No one else ta do it. Firs' sign he's doin' poorly, Hannibal'll stop him. An' if Hannibal don't, I will."

"I gotta be waiting for my cue, Buttercup. Wouldja hand me my sword?" B. A. pressed the grip of the sword into his hand as McDermond parted the side curtain and came backstage.

The two actors nodded at each other. McDermond cleared his throat and whispered, "I don' know what's got into Evan. He did things out there that weren't even close to how we practiced. Might wanna watch it with him."

Murdock raised his eyebrows and looked beyond McDermond to the wing. He drew in a deep breath and grimaced with the action. "Thanks for the info."

As the Captain made his way to the stage right side curtain, B. A. followed him. "I got your back, man, if he gets too wild."

Murdock glanced out at the two actors finishing their lines and nodded absentmindedly. "Thanks, B. A. Might need it."

When Doctor Freedman left the stage, he counted out his two seconds and made his entrance. Striding toward the Prince at center stage, he said his opening line. "'If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth.'" Taking a close look at his opponent's face, he flinched backward and seemed to falter with the name.

Cyndy came up beside B. A. She touched him on the elbow and stared out at the two men. "Do you think he'll get through this scene?"

"He's a fighter, lil' mama. Never known 'im to give up and don't think he will now." The Sergeant patted her softly on the shoulder. "I'll watch 'im, make sure there's no trouble. You be ready with another ice pack soon as he's done."

B. A. listened to the dialogue between the Prince of Wales and Hotspur for a few moments before his attention was drawn to Face and Hannibal in the front row. Motioning toward the alcove and then toward the Prince, the conman engaged the Colonel in an intense discussion.

Hannibal frowned and looked up at the stage toward the two actors and then at B. A. He seemed to be sending the Sergeant a silent warning. Then he nodded at Face and the Lieutenant headed toward the door leading to the backstage area.

"'. . .Think not, Percy,  
To share with me in glory any more.  
Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere,  
Nor can one England brook a double reign  
Of Harry Percy and the Prince of Wales.'"

The Prince delivered his speech with an ominous tone and raised his sword in front of him with both hands.

Murdock seemed hesitant, backing a few steps away from the Prince before he responded.

"'Nor shall it, Harry, for the hour is come  
To end the one of us, and would to God  
Thy name in arms were now as great as mine.'"

The pilot, expecting the next lines, glanced toward Hannibal. His look was one of confusion. Seeing an opportunity, the Prince lunged forward with his sword.

Murdock reacted when he saw the blow coming, barely positioning his sword in time to parry. The Prince disengaged, scraping his sword along the pilot's blade.

The injured man backed further away, holding his weapon with both hands in front of him. His eyes were wide and focused on his advancing opponent.

Hannibal was on his feet and moving. Mrs. Bartleman froze in position, her mouth in a horrified 'O' as the Colonel rushed past her.

Face appeared beside B. A. "That's not a prop sword," he blurted before bolting out onto the stage. The swordsmen stopped their movement up-stage and circled each other.

"Back away, Faceman! That's not a toy he's got there." Murdock yelled over his shoulder at his friend. Seizing the distraction, Hollis shouted the pilot's name and swept his blade toward the Captain's midsection.

Murdock dropped his weapon, fell and rolled to one side. The blade hissed through the air three feet above him and sliced through the backdrop. Scrambling quickly to his feet and grasping the grip of his sword, the pilot was just in time to parry a second blow.

His three team mates formed a wide semi-circle around them. "Back 'way, guys. He swings at one o' ya 'n' connects, yer gonna bleed," Murdock warned, again holding his sword with both hands before him. The blade wobbled slightly in his hands. His opponent smirked when he saw it.

He kept his eyes on Hollis, watching for a flinch, any twitching of the facial muscles that would signal a new attack. Out of his peripheral vision, the Captain saw Cyndy appear at the side curtain and begin to edge her way along the backdrop toward them.

_Gotta do somethin' 'fore she gets here 'r else she's gonna get hurt. _

Hollis noticed at the same time and made a hurried move toward her. Murdock took the opportunity. Howling like he did before take-offs, he rushed his bewildered opponent. The element of surprise was on his side. Their swords locked, the blades crossed near the hilt and he grabbed Hollis's wrist in a vise-like grip.

Face, his handgun drawn, appeared behind Hollis and pressed the barrel into the small of the man's back. "Drop it now."

The young man clasped the handle tighter for a second. He attempted to pull free from Murdock's grip before admitting defeat and loosening his hold on the sword. It clattered to the stage floor and the pilot put it out of reach with one kick.

Murdock dropped his own sword and staggered backward. Doubling over, he began to cough. B. A. and Hannibal were at his side moments later, supporting him.

They all heard a startled shriek and a gunshot thundered over the top of the pilot's coughing. Murdock attempted to straighten as he stared in horror toward the wings.

Deke Winton gripped Cyndy around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides, and held a pistol barrel against her right temple. He directed his order to Face.

"_You_ drop it or this pretty lil' thing'll die now."


	45. Chapter 45 Captors and Captives

Death Waits In the Wings

AN: This is a longer chapter but I trust it's worth it. Hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 45 Captors and Captives

B. A. and Hannibal had removed the bascinet, chain mail coif and padding from Murdock to allow him to breathe easier but it hadn't helped much.

His coughing fit was interrupted by Deke Winton's appearance with Cyndy at the side curtain. The theater was quiet now except for Murdock's raspy breaths as he tried to control his coughing and Cyndy's soft whimpers of fright as Deke held the barrel of the pistol to her right temple.

"Drop it or she dies." He repeated the threat when Face kept his handgun pressed into Hollis's back.

"Don' hurt her. Please, don' hurt her." Murdock's face was ashen as he glanced at his friend and then back at Winton. Cyndy's terror-filled eyes were almost too much for him. With difficulty, he forced out the words, "Faceman, ya better do what the man says."

The Lieutenant looked at Hannibal who nodded. Face let his gun slip out of his hand to the floor where it landed with a solid thud.

Hollis bent and quickly scooped it up into his hand. He backed toward Winton, keeping the gun trained on the conman. His jubilant grin turned malicious as his gaze fell on Murdock. The pilot stared back at his classmate with barely contained rage.

"Any others? Don' be shy now. I'm sure Miss Berquon here would 'ppreciate it if you'd drop 'em 'n' slide 'em far 'nough 'way you can't get to 'em." To emphasize his point, Winton tightened his arm around Cyndy's waist and clicked the safety off on the handgun. She flinched and let out a small gasp.

Hannibal and B. A. did as they were told, maintaining eye contact with the gunmen as they removed their weapons and slid them away from their reach across the floor.

"Now, all of you out in the theater, come sit in the first two rows of seats. The rest of you on stage kneel where you are. All except Mr. Murdock. He's comin' with us. I think Mr. Latreque'd like to have some words with 'im." Winton watched with a smirk on his face until his orders were obeyed. "Good," he breathed.

Murdock wrapped his arms around his ribs, grimacing with the sharp pain from his actions during the sword fight. He kept his fierce gaze on Hollis, Cyndy and Deke. Face maintained his own watch over Cyndy and silently cursed himself for not having protected her somehow from this.

Deke snarled out a command to his companion. "Get those swords and guns and bring them here. Then go help Mr. Murdock over here."

After Hollis collected together the weapons and placed them in a pile close to Winton's feet, he sauntered across the stage toward B. A., Hannibal, and the pilot. Waving his handgun, he motioned for the two men to move away from Murdock.

Hollis stood behind the Captain and poked the barrel of his gun into the small of his back. "Put your hands up 'hind your neck 'n' walk," he growled.

"Come a long way from bein' your standard good-fer-nothin' garden variety bully, ain'tcha?" Murdock hissed as he laced his fingers together as instructed and made his feet move. "I've faced death more times'n you can count on yer fingers. I ain't 'fraid of you no more."

_I hear you, Billy. Death ain't nothin' to fear either. Not when someone's waitin' for ya. _

He heard his captor snort and stumbled as he was shoved forward. "We'll see 'bout that after Pa gets done talkin' with you. You 'n' I, we'll have some fun for ol' time's sake."

"Now y'all stay put for five minutes. Time it or they both die." Winton let Hollis and Murdock pass by him to the wing and then followed them, backing his way past the side curtain.

Two minutes later the rear theater door slammed shut. Face was the first to scramble to his feet and run to get his gun. He brushed aside the curtain and disappeared.

"Face!" Hannibal called out to his Lieutenant as B. A. and he reached the pile of weapons.

"He's rushing blind into a bad situation." The Colonel gave his Sergeant an anxious look. "B. A., get out to that car parked in front but be careful. They may already be there."

He watched as the burly black man ran up the aisle toward the alcove and the theater's main entrance. Hannibal himself hurried through the backstage area where the rest of the frightened cast and crew clustered in small groups.

"Stay put, all of you!" Hannibal shot the order at them as he rushed toward the rear door. Face and Cyndy waited for him. The Lieutenant held Cyndy tightly, preventing her from opening the door before Hannibal could get there. Just before the Colonel began to cautiously crack it enough to peer outside, the sound of a gunshot pierced the night.

ooooooo

Murdock continued to cast insults at Hollis as Cyndy and he were forced toward the rear exit by their captors.

"You always did hafta have someone help ya finish what ya started, didn'tcha, Latreque? If it wasn' yer bunch o' flunkies, it was yer Pa." The pilot spat the words at him, ending them with a scornful laugh. He glanced across to Cyndy and winked when he knew he wouldn't be seen by Winton. He hoped she caught the sign, knew what he was trying to do and wouldn't interfere. He paled when he saw her pleading look.

_She don' understand. I can see it in her eyes. _

"Ya wouldn'ta been able to survive Nam. Woulda peed yer pants first time yer CO made ya salute. How didya get outta bein' drafted? Yer Pa bribe someone? Or were ya chicken?" He sensed Hollis's temper rising and readied himself for the punishment he knew he would soon receive.

_Is this how it's gonna end, Billy? I gotta have both of 'em beat on me to protect Cyndy? Hope it don' take long. _

"The army woulda made ya into a man rather'n a kid that never grew up. So who's yer latest flunky, huh? A reject from _Night of the Living Dead?_ Or is he Freddy Krueger's stunt double?" He hurled a few taunts in Deke's direction as they reached the door. He willed the black spots dotting his vision to go away.

Winton landed a blow to the side of his head with the butt of his gun. A bright flash of white light drove the black spots away temporarily. Blood trickled down his cheek and to his jaw from a deep cut.

As the black spots filled in a portion of his vision again, he muttered, "That's a love tap 'pared to what the VC did. Ya can't do better'n that?" Cyndy was crying and begging them to leave him alone. Exactly what he didn't want her to do.

"Open it." Hollis pushed him toward the door.

"Sure 'nough, ya plug-ugly mudsucker." In one quick movement, Murdock shoved his weight on the door, forced it open and toppled to the ground outside. He rolled to the side and onto his hands and knees. Neither of their captors expected it. The door closed behind him only to reopen as both men rushed headlong into the parking lot.

Seeing Cyndy wasn't with them, he breathed an internal sigh of relief and swayed to his feet, letting the wall support him. "It's me you want but I won' go willingly. So which one o' ya is gonna try ta get me first?"

_Which one's gonna do it? Hope yer right, Billy, 'n' it's quick 'n' painless. _

Hollis backed away toward the street and Deke's Cougar. When the older man didn't follow, he stopped and watched in terror. "Come on, Winton. Someone's bound to've called the cops." Deke glared and pointed his handgun toward Murdock's chest.

"Pa didn' say kill 'im. I ain't a killer." Hollis took two steps toward Winton, glancing at Murdock and Deke in turn.

Murdock felt his knees begin to buckle beneath him. The pain in his ribs was white hot but nothing compared to what he knew was coming if the older man did anything else but a head shot.

_Ain't there no other way? _

"Then why were you usin' a real sword? That wasn' no prop I handed ya." Deke smirked at the horror on the younger man's face. "Ya didn' know? You really do have stupid for brains, like your Pa always said." He laughed. "'Sides, yer Pa didn' say _how_ we were s'posed to stop the play. Did he?"

He focused his attention back to the injured man and slowly raised the barrel until it pointed at the pilot's head.


	46. Chapter 46 Another Time, Another Place

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 46 Another Time, Another Place

He stared into the barrel of the gun pointed at him.

Another time, another place, another bullet, nearly transported him into the loving arms of his waiting family. When he became feverish that time, begged for Hannibal and B. A. to leave him while they had a chance, before Decker and his men got there, Billy told him it wasn't time.

He tried to get the guys to leave him, figured if they left him, Billy would see he was ready. It wasn't his time.

He wasn't sure this was his time either. He was ready, but Billy had gone silent.

He could almost hear the man's knuckle joint creak as he slowly pulled the trigger.

_Is it better to watch the bullet leave the barrel and come straight for me or is it better to shut my eyes, let it happen? _

His knees were wobbly but not because of fear. There was little fear when death had been cheated more than once in a lifetime. He had been tortured, shot and hung by the neck, crashed planes and choppers alike, none of those things had killed him.

_All those times 'n' it's gonna end right here without one o' the guys beside me. _

Now that he knew the man would put him on the quick elevator to Heaven and not the pain-filled slow one, he wasn't afraid at all.

Pain was making him shaky. His abdomen was aflame with it. Soon that stabbing agony would be no more. Peace and family would surround him. Billy had said so.

The gun discharged its shot. The sound boomed in the parking lot between the theater and the next building over. So loud of a noise for so small of a projectile. He almost laughed at the absurdity.

A rapidly moving flying shadow dodged in front of him as his knees gave out and he slumped to the ground. His brown eyes began to cloud with renewed pain. He saw Deke Winton stare wildly at him and then at something further away on the ground. Then the man vanished, his running footsteps retreating toward the street.

_What was that? A cloud? An eagle? A plane or a chopper? An angel? Not thinkin' clearly. _

It had all happened in milliseconds but it seemed every movement took full minutes to play out. He shook his head to rid himself of the fog in his mind. Peering into the darkness, pushing back the black-dotted darkness in his own mind, trying to locate the object that had flashed in front of him, he heard moaning. There was no pain in his head besides the almost constant headache he had nursed for the past few days. But there should have been if the bullet did its job.

_I'm alive 'n' this ain't Heaven. _

The theater door banged open, another absurdly loud sound in the quiet evening air. He was suddenly aware of being surrounded by friends. Hannibal, Face and Cyndy from one side and B. A. from the other, all of them staring down at him, all of them with worried looks on their faces. Moments later a car's tires squealed away from in front of the theater.

"Sorry, Hannibal. He ran past me 'fore I could stop 'im. Heard the gunshot an' needed to know." The Sergeant scowled as he glanced down at Murdock. "Is the fool alright?"

"Go get Doctor Freedman, B. A." Hannibal's tense voice cut through the darkness that tried to insert itself into Murdock's vision.

The big black Sergeant paused for a moment and looked again at the pilot. He slammed the theater's rear door open, bellowing as he did. "Need a doctor out here!"

Face and Cyndy knelt beside Murdock while Hannibal moved off to the side and tended to a figure wearing a medieval knight's costume.

"We thought we'd lost you, buddy. That gunshot . . . " Face shuddered and gripped the pilot's hand in his, squeezing it tightly. Nothing more needed to be said or done.

Cyndy trembled as she held his other hand. "You could've been killed. You said all those things to get them mad, to save me."

The Captain shook his head and frowned. "He had me point blank. Head shot. Should've been instant death. Somethin' moved in the way . . . "

He heard groans and sobs of pain. Hannibal's voice was harsh and determined. "Hang in there, kid. The doctor's on his way out here. You saved Murdock's life. For that, I'm grateful."

"I'm not . . . a killer. Couldn' . . . let him . . . "

"I know." Hannibal sounded weary. "Hang in there. Stay with me."

_Hollis? Hollis Latreque saved my life? How? Why? _

Murdock gazed up into Face's eyes. "Ya gotta help me over there. Gotta see 'im, thank 'im."

"Not now, buddy. He needs the doctor, not thanks. There'll be time for that later." Murdock turned over onto his side and tried to crawl over to the other man. Face gripped him by both of his shoulders and pushed him back into a sitting position. The action made him clench his teeth against the pain. "You need some medical attention yourself. Hollis first, then you."

The Lieutenant glanced over at Hannibal and Hollis, then at Cyndy. They exchanged an unspoken bit of information between them before returning their attention to Murdock.

Cyndy pressed her cool hand to his forehead, smoothing his hair back, giving Face worried looks. "He's got a very high temperature." She took the handkerchief from Face's breast pocket and applied pressure to the bleeding cut beside his eye.

He winced and tried to push her hand away. "And two performances comin' up, guys. No rest for the weary. If you won't let me talk to Hollis, least let me rest."

_Rest would be good. Just a small rest. Nothin' big. Maybe I'll wake up in Heaven. _

He closed his eyes and let the darkness envelop him.


	47. Chapter 47 Man Down

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 47 The Extent of Injuries

A banging sound erupted from the theater dumpster. B. A. walked over and lifted the lid. Shaking his head and scowling, he extricated and freed a bound and gagged Evan Dunlow. The actor had a large lump on the back of his head but no other injuries.

"I can't believe they would toss me in there like so much rotten produce," he protested, searching his pockets. Slouching against one of the cars, he lit a cigarette with shaking hands and glowered at the dumpster.

The Colonel knelt down to keep Hollis from going into shock. "Stay with me, kid." He did not allow his voice to betray the internal struggle he was having with his emotions.

This young man was responsible for some of Murdock's current psychological and physical pain. A part of Hannibal was like B. A., wanting to tear into any punk who caused one of his men that sort of torment.

The side of him that prevailed was the professional military man. It had to prevail because he was a Colonel and the leader of an A-team. That alone dictated that he treat this punk as he would any civilian who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and got injured as a result.

He sat on the cool asphalt of the parking lot and propped the injured man so his back was leaning against Hannibal's chest. "I'm going to take off this helmet and the chain mail. We need to get a good look at that wound."

Hollis groaned and sucked in a sharp breath as Hannibal did, moving as carefully as he could. There was no mistaking the entry point for the bullet. Chain mail was no match for a .38 caliber bullet at six feet. The bullet would have forced shattered bits of metal chains as well as shredded cloth into the body. The blood from the larger exit wound had already begun to soak through Hollis's clothing and chain mail garment onto the Colonel's canvas jacket.

He called over to Face and Cyndy. "Check around for the bullet. It isn't here." He hoped it had not traveled through Hollis and into Murdock but he had to be sure. Hannibal's cursory examination had shown nothing except the deep laceration beside the pilot's eye but that didn't mean there wasn't an injury he did not detect in the poor light.

Mrs. Bartleman appeared at his elbow at about the same time as Doctor Freedman and the security guard.

Hannibal gave the guard a cold stare. "Where were _you_ when all this was happening?"

"I was hired to keep the armor and swords from being stolen. No more than that. Protecting the cast and crew was _your_ venue." The ex-cop scrutinized the Colonel. "If you couldn't do the job, Mrs. Bartleman wasted her money."

"I would say Mr. Empry wasted his if he hired a head of security who couldn't run a simple background check on Deke Winton or someone who was able to switch swords as easily as your man did," Hannibal spat back.

"Gentlemen! Could you move this argument to another part of the parking lot?" Doctor Freedman was attempting to examine the bullet wound and evaluate Hollis's vital signs. "If you want to do something useful, you can call for an ambulance. This young man needs more medical attention than I can give him here."

The theater owner directed one of the cast members to use the phone in the building to get the paramedics there.

"Sorry, Doc. I'm going to have to leave Mr. Latreque in your hands. Mrs. Bartleman, if I could have a few words with you?" Hannibal eased his jacket off and shifted position until he could lay Hollis on the asphalt. He bunched his jacket up and placed it under the wounded man's head.

As he led Mrs. Bartleman to a more private area of the parking lot, Face joined them. "We were lucky, Colonel, or should I say, Murdock was lucky. I found the bullet imbedded in the mortar about six feet up the wall. If Hollis jumped in front of him to shield him, that was one heckuva jump."

"Murdock did say Latreque was on the track team at one time."

Both men looked over to where the Captain lay, his head in Cyndy's lap. She applied pressure to the cut beside his eye while stroking his cheek in an effort to wake him.

"Is he ready to get out of here? We've got an ambulance coming in for Latreque." Hannibal's hand strayed to the place where he would normally have extracted a cigar and remembered his jacket was being used. "Got a cigar on you, kid?"

Face reached into his pocket and handed it over. "We're going to have to have B. A. help get him to the van. He passed out."

"Go get B. A. and let's move out." The Colonel bit the end of the cigar off and spat it onto the pavement. Turning to Mrs. Bartleman, he frowned toward Empry's guard. "I'd appreciate it if you and the good doctor could try to keep the police from finding out about us. All they need to know is that Deke Winton worked for both J. M. Latreque and Mr. Empry and he was the one who shot Mr. Latreque's son. If Murdock is implicated, it'll get messy. If that should happen we'll have to get out of here. We won't leave him behind, not if we can help it."

"If you have to leave, that would mean we couldn't put on the performances. I would lose the theater." Mrs. Bartleman swallowed hard.

"It wouldn't be our first choice." Hannibal looked at the unlit cigar and tucked it into his shirt pocket. "I don't want that to happen."

The theater owner glanced at B. A. and Face trying to lift and carry Murdock between them. "I'll tell the cast and crew not to talk to anyone about this. They all want the theater to stay open so I don't think they'll jeopardize that by saying anything. I never thought Mr. Latreque was this desperate to get this property." She was close to tears as she watched the two men settle the pilot into the back of the van. "Will he be alright?"

Hannibal was getting tired of answering a question for which he couldn't begin to know the answer. His stock answer was getting old, even to his ears. "I don't know. He's strong and he'll do everything he can to finish the job."

"But after that? He doesn't look well at all." Mrs. Bartleman frowned.

"He's strong," Hannibal repeated and sighed before joining Cyndy and the three men in the van. Before B. A. drove away, the Colonel leaned out of the window for one last look at Hollis. He gestured with his head toward the doctor and the injured man. "I would appreciate it if either the doctor or you could keep me apprised of his condition. That could easily have been Murdock lying there instead of him."

As they left the parking lot, Hannibal finally lit his cigar and leaned back to think.


	48. Chapter 48 Why'd You Leave Me

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 48 Why'd You Leave Me

B. A. and Face held Murdock down as Hannibal cleansed and disinfected the gash beside his eye caused by the butt of Winton's gun. With Cyndy's assistance, he closed it with sutures.

It was not easy. The minor surgery had to be done without anesthetic because of the mix of painkillers and medications he was taking. Any violent unexpected movement Murdock made could drive the needle into his eye and possibly blind him. B. A., being the strongest, held his head in a viselike grip as the Colonel stitched. Face held down his arms and Cyndy sat on his legs. The feverish pilot strained against their hold on him, howling when he could not escape from their grasp.

Hannibal had to give the young lady credit. She paled but did not flinch even when he hurled out a long expletive-filled tirade that was half-English, half-Vietnamese, against them.

When the gash was finally closed and gauze covered it, the Captain sank into the pillows. An occasional shudder passed through him until his eyelids drooped and he slept.

Hannibal demanded B. A., Face and Cyndy let him have the first shift. After all that had happened, he could not sleep easily. Neither could the rest of them, he was certain, but if the pilot should awaken during the night, he wanted to be the one to talk to him.

For the first hour, the Colonel watched Murdock sleep. Incoherent whispered words accompanied every movement of the injured man's head. When his hand strayed too near the gauze-covered wound, Hannibal gently held it down at his side until he relaxed again.

Sometime during the second hour of the watch, Murdock pulled himself into a sitting position and stared at the armchair where Hannibal sat. His eyes were glazed with fever.

"Why'dya leave me? I was ready." His slurred words were directed toward Hannibal but the Colonel knew the pilot was not talking to him.

"Woulda been easy to slip 'way, Billy. No one there but Hollis 'n' that other guy. No Hann'bal or B. A. to stop me from goin'. Not like las' time."

That kind of talk made Hannibal uneasy. He knew what 'last time' that was. He hadn't realized before now just how close they were to losing him. Murdock must have been prepared to die well before the Colonel made the decision to remove the bullet from the pilot's shoulder himself. Maybe even when they were still back at the cabin Face had scammed.

And what about that time the thugs forced Murdock onto the hood of a truck and tightened a hangman's noose around his neck? It was a well-aimed bullet that cut him down just as they hung him. Had he been prepared to die then, too?

He wasn't sure he wanted to hear more but Murdock didn't show signs of becoming fully conscious.

The pilot raised his voice in accusation. "Why didn' you _take_ me? _I was ready to go!_"

Then Hannibal saw the Captain do something he did only when his pain was so severe it had to be released somehow. He threw his head back and let escape chilling tormented howls that showed no signs of stopping.

The Colonel didn't want to remember the last time the pilot had done that. It was a scene the three of them had witnessed and one they never talked about with him. The memory of him in restraints, wrists bleeding, wild-eyed, thrashing violently against the medics . . . wanting to die because his mind had reached its overload point. If Murdock was that close to the edge again . . .

The older man hesitated. He could stay where he was and allow the emotions to exhaust the Captain until he fell asleep again. That would provide him some dignity, especially if he didn't remember the next morning what had happened.

Or Hannibal could try to wake Murdock up before he roused everyone from their much-needed sleep. Then he would not have that dignity. Everyone would know.

The Colonel chose action over inaction.

Moving carefully, he approached the couch and knelt beside it. Once there, he wondered what to do next. Hannibal had never known how to lavish the type of physical contact that would calm a terrified child.

Hell, growing up he hadn't received much of that touch himself. He remembered the harsh discipline in his childhood, the stuff that prepared him for his military duty. He could not recall a single time his father had administered a hug instead of a lashing.

This kind of hurt required a father's touch. He didn't know what to do but he had to try. What was it Cyndy said? " . . . if he had ever had a father who loved him, he'd be like you."

So Hannibal was awkward when he pulled the pilot into his arms and held him as tightly as he could without injuring him, suppressing the howls with his shoulder instead of letting them escape into the shattered silence of the farmhouse.

Gradually the screams dissolved into shaking sobs. "Don' leave me. Don' leave me," a half-awake Murdock rasped repeatedly between hitching breaths. He clung to Hannibal like he was dangling over a mile deep chasm and the Colonel was his only hope of rescue.

"I won't, Captain." The Colonel raised a tentative hand and patted him on the back, unsure of what else to do. He didn't even know whether he should say 'son' as he attempted to reassure him. He tried it. "I won't, son." It sounded clumsy and artificial coming from his mouth.

The pilot did not fully wake up for several minutes. When he did, realizing what had happened, he tensed and pulled away. "Sorry, Hannibal. Didn' mean to wake you up," he mumbled. Wrapping his arms around himself, he collapsed back into the pillows. The strained look on his face betrayed the last of the anguish he had just expressed.

The older man relaxed and moved back to the armchair, thankful the incident was finally over without anyone else witnessing it. He didn't know if he was more relieved for Murdock or for himself.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." Hannibal forced himself to look at the injured man. The past half hour had been so personal it was difficult to maintain eye contact.

Murdock avoided his eyes and picked at the blanket with shaking fingers instead. "I 'ppreciate it, Colonel, but it's not necessary."

"I have to ask one thing, Captain. Will Billy and what he is telling you put Face, B. A., Cyndy or anyone besides yourself in danger?"

The pilot considered the question before shaking his head. His expression grew more serious as he thought back to the incident at the theater. "I thought Hollis 'n' his buddy'd let Cyndy go 'n' come after me. I was pretty sure they would." He frowned. "'N' I was right. But I was jus' protectin' Cyndy, not tryin' to get myself killed."

"It's not _you_ in the hospital. That's why I asked." Hannibal saw Murdock flinch as he remembered.

"Hollis. He took the bullet meant for me. Is he . . . ?"

"We don't know yet. None of us can get in to see him. We're counting on Doctor Freedman to give us updates. The cops are all over that hospital right now. Some things besides the shooting at the theater happened yesterday that stirred them up."

The Captain paused. His voice was low and troubled. "Like what kind of things?"

"Do you want the rumors or what we know for certain?"

As if he hadn't heard the question, Murdock murmured, "Anythin' to do with Pa?"

"Maybe. We heard over the van radio that a nighttime security guard found J. M. Latreque murdered in his office. That fire we saw as we went to the theater for rehearsal was a garage and house belonging to a man by the name of Harris Lahman. Face swung by there and saw a Pontiac Catalina sitting where the garage used to be. Neighbors seemed to indicate it was stored in there for safekeeping. They suspect arson."

Murdock licked his lips and took in a breath. "A Pontiac Catalina?"

Hannibal nodded. "Someone seems to be very anxious about something. Lahman is in critical condition in the hospital. He was found in the car. The fire was meant to kill him. If that Catalina was your father's car, he's busy getting rid of evidence."

The two men stared at each other. Neither man needed to say who held in his possession one of the most incriminating testimonies against McKeever, a testimony which could put him away for a very long time.


	49. Chapter 49 Never Alone

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 49 Never Alone

"B. A., Face. Let's step outside. I need to have a word with both of you." Hannibal motioned toward the front door as they rose from the breakfast table the next morning. He hesitated and glanced at Cyndy. "If you wouldn't mind watching Murdock for a while."

She paled and looked toward the couch. The pilot had finally fallen asleep again after his conversation with Hannibal but like before it was a troubled rest punctuated with agitated movement and muttering.

"We'll be just outside the door, Angel." Face moved in front of her and grasped her around the waist. "If there's any trouble, call me and I'll be right in." He tipped her chin upward with his fingertips and kissed her before following the Colonel and Sergeant outside.

As he carefully shut the door behind him, he noticed B. A. was pacing back and forth on the veranda and Hannibal had commandeered one of the wicker chairs.

"So what's up, Colonel?" Face settled himself into one of the other chairs.

"After last night, it's more important than ever to make sure one of us is with Murdock at all times, except of course when he's onstage performing." Hannibal gave the two men a stern look before taking out a cigar and preparing to light it.

"He's going to know we're watching him closer than before. He isn't going to like it." Face glanced toward the front door and then back into the Colonel's determined eyes.

"Yeah, man. He's been complainin' 'bout what we're doin' already. Keeps callin' me Nurse Baracus, tryin' to get under my skin so's I'll leave the room." B. A. growled under his breath at the thought. "How we gonna keep him from ever bein' alone? Man's gotta have some privacy sometimes."

"I can't help that." Hannibal's voice was quiet. He stared down at the veranda deck between his feet and lit his cigar. Placing the lighter back in his pocket, he leaned back in the chair and stared at the filled in grave beside the barn, a worried frown creasing his brow.

"This got anythin' to do with all the racket this mornin'?" B. A. stopped directly in front of the Colonel. "Man was howlin' like he was gonna take off in a plane. I was 'sleep in the van an' I _still_ heard it. 'Bout to come up here, see if ya needed help."

The older man continued to smoke his cigar in silence, continued to stare at the filled in hole.

Face examined Hannibal's somber expression, followed his gaze and flinched. "That bad, huh?" He leaned forward and clasped his hands together between his knees, his elbows resting on his thighs. "If I'd known, I would have been downstairs in a heartbeat."

"He ain't sounded like that since . . . " B. A stopped in mid-sentence. He scowled at the front door to the farmhouse. When he looked back at Hannibal, he nodded. "I'll keep my eyes on 'im, Colonel. Don' matter what he say. Ain't gonna let 'im go that far 'gain."

"We'll _both _keep our eyes on him, Hannibal. But what about Cyndy? Shouldn't we tell her something so she knows what to watch for?" The Lieutenant straightened and rested his hands on the arms of the wicker chair.

Hannibal considered the question. "I'll leave that to you, Lieutenant. Don't tell her more detail than she has to know but tell her enough so she doesn't try to handle an episode like last night by herself." Neither man needed to ask why a similar episode would be too much for the young woman to manage alone. They had both witnessed one like it several years before.

"And what about Winton? Think he's still gunning for Murdock? If Hollis Latreque hadn't jumped in front of him, we wouldn't be having this discussion. Murdock would be laid out on a coroner's table instead." Face winced at the thought of how close his best friend had come to dying from an assassin's bullet. B. A. let out a grunt of agreement.

"We don't know for certain that Winton has heard about Latreque's murder. I asked Mrs. Bartleman to let the police know that it was Deke Winton that tried to kill Hollis. They will be looking for him, I'm sure." Hannibal glanced at both men. "With Latreque dead, all Mrs. Bartleman has to do is make enough money with these performances to make the bank loan officers happy. To do that, she needs our Captain for the performances. If the only reason Winton came after Murdock was because Latreque ordered him to, Murdock may be safe from _him_ at least."

"But not from his Pa," B. A. muttered, his frown growing deeper. "Still can' understan' a man like McKeever, hatin' his own kid that bad."

"Neither can I, B. A. Neither can I." The Colonel leaned back in the chair. "And after last night, I can't be sure Murdock wouldn't _willingly_ put himself in danger, and especially if he thought he would protect one of us or any of the people at the theater by doing so."

The three men sat in silence, each with their own memories of times the pilot had done that.

Finally, Face cleared his throat. "What about that fire? How does all of this relate?"

Hannibal turned his gaze on the Lieutenant. "All we do know is that Harris Lahman is now in critical condition in the hospital in Beaumont. He worked for J. M. Latreque and had some association with Winton. I suspect Harley McKeever was the arsonist and he's trying to cover his tracks for the murder of Beau Delton. The Catalina that was in the fire may be the car Murdock said he saw twenty years ago with the body in the trunk. He seemed to think so."

"Which means the last bit of evidence linking McKeever to that murder is the grave on this property and Murdock's testimony of what he saw his father do." Face swiped his hair back with one hand. "But how do we get the police to start searching this property? And how do we get Murdock's testimony to the authorities without him having to at least make an appearance?"

"We'll have to worry about that after next weekend's performances. If the police begin searching this farmstead, we'll have to leave before the mission is completed. For now, we have to make sure Murdock is rested and ready for each performance or there won't be any more Nederland Community Playhouse. That's why we need to protect Murdock from his father." Hannibal made eye contact with each man, making sure they understood.

"And from himself," Face added as he stood and walked to the door.


	50. Chapter 50 Dreams

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 50 Dreams

Doctor Freedman impatiently took his glasses off and polished the lenses with his handkerchief before perching them back on his nose. He cradled the receiver between his shoulder and his ear while he scanned Hollis Latreque's patient records. "Yes, Colonel Smith. Young Mr. Latreque is out of intensive care and can have visitors. The Beaumont police have been with him for most of the morning, though. He may not feel like having company for long. As you can imagine, it was quite a shock to him when they told him his father was dead."

He listened for a few minutes before frowning. "Mr. Lahman was stabilized and moved to a burn center in Houston. He survived. God knows how. The police wanted to talk to him but they didn't get a chance before he was transported."

Doctor Freedman gripped the receiver in his hand. "I can try to arrange for you to see Hollis Latreque but it won't be easy. As you know, with a suspected arson fire and a murder and attempted murder on their hands, both the Beaumont and Nederland police are anxious to keep track of who comes into the hospital for visits."

The doctor's frown grew deeper as he listened to the answer. "I'll keep my eyes and ears open for word about Deke Winton. Just catching some of the cops' conversations so far, it sounds like he's disappeared without a trace." He nodded as the conversation ended. "Yes, I'll let you know when it's safe to visit Mr. Latreque. I'll see you at the theater tonight if not before then, Colonel."

On the other end of the line, Hannibal glanced at B. A. before hanging up the mobile phone in the van.

"What'd the man say, Hannibal? Murdock gonna be able to see him?"

The Colonel opened the van door and went to the back to grab one of the bags of groceries they had bought in Sour Lake an hour ago.

"Doctor Freedman will let us know when the coast is clear. Besides, Murdock needs to rest up for tonight's opening and the next two nights' performances. After that he'll have a few days to get some real rest before next weekend. Maybe then we can sneak him in to see Latreque." He handed B. A. one bag and took the other, then closed the van door.

"Crazy man ain't seemin' to get no better. Sleeps most of the time. Don't even give me jibber-jabber when I'm watchin' him. He's gonna need more'n a few days rest." B. A. fell into step beside the Colonel as they made their way up to the veranda.

Hannibal paused before opening the front door. "Just keep trying to get him to eat and drink and rest. Keep his focus on the mission, not on what he thinks the voices are telling him."

He heard B. A.'s frustrated growl and knew that the muscular Sergeant disagreed. "If we can get him through tonight's opening, I might be able to convince Mrs. Bartleman to let me take over for at least one performance."

B. A. snorted. "Would be fine if you was good as the fool at doin' Shakespeare, but gotta be honest wit' ya, Hannibal. Bein' the Aquamaniac ain't exactly the same thing."

The Colonel flashed him a mock injured look. "Why, B.A., I'm hurt. I have plenty of acting experience. It's just mostly in non-speaking roles." The older man pushed open the door.

Face rose to his feet from the dining room table where Cyndy and he had been enjoying glasses of iced tea and talking quietly. The old farmhouse had retained much of the heat of the day and both of them were in their lightest summer clothes.

Hannibal glanced toward the couch. The pilot was asleep, resting more peacefully than the Colonel had seen him do in days. The three blankets draped over him were almost to his chin. Barely visible above one of them, he could see the white fuzzy ears of Bogey Bear.

The stuffed animal mascot hadn't appeared in Murdock's arms until after B. A.'s shift. The bear seemed to be a comforting presence so Hannibal decided not to ask the Sergeant about it. He wouldn't get more than a grumbling dismissal anyway.

"How is he?" The Colonel motioned toward the sleeping man. He asked as a matter of habit now and knew the answer before either one of them spoke.

Cyndy's worried expression told Hannibal all he needed to know but she reported anyway. "Temp put two more blankets over him because he said he was cold. I gave him aspirin for the fever and tried to get him to drink some chicken broth and eat some applesauce. He's kept it down for about a half hour. He fell asleep as soon as he finished eating."

"We'll continue to wake him up every four hours and watch him when he's awake." The Colonel walked over to sit in the kitchen chair near the head of the makeshift bed. "Did you check the laceration beside his eye?"

Face nodded. "Changed the gauze, too. It doesn't look infected."

Murdock stirred at the sound of conversation around him. His eyelids fluttered halfway open and he stared dully at Hannibal. "I feel lousy."

The three men glanced at each other. For Murdock to admit how sick he was meant he was in worse condition than what he said. He let his gaze roam from one concerned face to the other and tried to smile. Removing his right arm from under the blankets, he touched the gauze bandage. "How many stitches, doc?"

"Enough." Hannibal settled back in the chair and crossed his arms. Cyndy sat down in the armchair with Face resting his hands on her shoulders from behind her. B. A. stood at the foot of the couch. He had such a serious expression on his face that Murdock grimaced.

"Ya'll look like I died 'n' yer seein' my corpse for the firs' time. Don' look _that _bad, do I?" He let a wheezing laugh escape from his mouth. Looking down at the stuffed teddy bear tucked under his left arm, he raised his eyebrows at B. A. "Now, Nurse Baracus. How'd you know Bogey was feelin' lonely?"

"I didn' put it there, fool. 'Sides, the bear ain't 'live." B. A. snorted and turned to put away the groceries they brought in. Hannibal smiled toward the Sergeant's back before returning his attention to Murdock.

"How long 'fore we got to go to the theater?" The pilot eased himself to a sitting position against the pillows. He swallowed several times.

Cyndy rose from her seat and uncapped a water bottle for him. Handing it to Hannibal, she turned to help B. A. with the groceries.

"About three more hours. I'm not going to ask if you think you're up to it. We all know what you'll say." The Colonel held the water bottle out to the injured man. "Sip it. Don't gulp it."

Murdock took two sips before handing it back. "Had the strangest dream 'fore I woke up." He shuddered. "Wanna hear it?" Before anyone could reply, he continued. "Don' know what it means. Don' know if it means anythin'." Closing his eyes and settling back into the pillows, he rested his arm across his forehead. "Billy 'n' me were in the loft o' the barn. I looked out the loft window 'n' saw Pa down below. He had two graves dug 'n' was diggin' 'nother. I musta made a sound 'cause he turned 'n' stared directly at me. Nex' thing I knew everythin' was gettin' smoky, Billy'd disappeared 'n' there was flames comin' up through the loft floor. I couldn't get out. Then I heard ya'll talkin' 'n' I woke up."

Hannibal glanced at Face at the mention of the graves.

B. A. stalked toward the couch, his fists clenched. "Dreams don' mean nothin'. Ain' gonna let your father within ten miles of you. Got that?"

The injured man was beginning to drift back to sleep but he managed a weak smile and a nod. "If you say so, Big Guy."


	51. Chapter 51 A Convincing Act

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 51 A Convincing Act

By suppertime Murdock had coughed up enough blood-stained phlegm to soak two handkerchiefs and vomited so many times they had lost count. Each twisting or jarring movement of his abdomen produced a grimace or a barely suppressed groan.

Most of his time was spent in sleep. When he wasn't sleeping he was either in the grips of delirium-produced flashbacks of his childhood or the POW camps or trying to tease and joke to convince them he wasn't sick or hurting at all.

An hour before they were supposed to leave for the theater, Hannibal was prepared to tell Face to stay with the injured man back at the homestead and let him take Murdock's place on the stage.

But when Murdock saw the sun slanting through the windows and realized it was almost time for them to go, he rallied his strength.

Pulling himself into a sitting position and clutching the teddy bear to his rib cage, he motioned for Face to help him stand. "Get me to the table. I'm sick of layin' 'round. Gonna eat supper with ya even if my supper's gotta be baby food 'n' juice."

"I shouldn't be doing this, you know." The Lieutenant eased his friend's arm around his shoulders and paused when he heard the sharp intake of breath. "You really think this is going to convince Hannibal? Not even _I'm _convinced you should be up and about."

Murdock clenched his teeth and hissed, "I'm fine. Jus' do what I ask, 'kay?" The Lieutenant shook his head at his friend's stubbornness and assisted him to the chair.

Cyndy placed a spoon and paper napkin in front of him. Before going back to the propane cook stove where supper was warming, she felt his forehead and frowned down at him.

He reached up and squeezed her hand before kissing and releasing it. "I'm okay. B. A.'s gonna come in that door pretty soon hungry 'n' mean. Better be ready ta feed the mudsucker."

Face's gaze flickered to her eyes and she silently conveyed her worry.

When Hannibal and he came in from the barn, B. A. scowled. "Man, what you tryin' to prove? That ain't restin', you sittin' up at that table."

"Bogey was hungry." Murdock gave the Sergeant an exaggerated pout and showed him the stuffed bear perched in his lap. Nobody wanted to point out the spot on the bear's face where Murdock had coughed up blood in his sleep.

When Cyndy set a bowl of diced peaches, applesauce and white rice, a mug of chicken broth and a small glass of ginger ale in front of him, Murdock grinned.

He lifted the glass to his lips and sipped. With a Scottish accent, he slurred, "I'd say it was a 30-year-old fine, indifferently blended, sir... with an overdose of bon-bois. " She frowned at him and he added with a smirk, "Sean Connery, _Goldfinger_. You know, license to kill, double o seven and all that."

He tried to ignore Hannibal's scrutinizing glances. Scooping up peaches, applesauce and rice, he made plane noises and offered it to Bogey before popping each spoonful in his own mouth. He knew he had the attention of each person at the table but he had to demonstrate to them he was able to go to the theater and perform.

After the fourth spoonful with the accompanying sounds, B. A. scraped his chair back and stood up. "Bear don't eat. He ain' 'live, fool."

Murdock blinked a few times at the irritated black man and said in his most innocent voice, "Well, Bogey's been gettin' chubby lately 'n' he's either eatin' too much or he's pregnant." Then he let out a surprised gasp and looked his bear in the eyes. "Have you been steppin' out with the bear nex' door?"

He glanced up at Hannibal, hoping to see the indulgent smile he usually saw when his antics were getting on B. A.'s nerves. Instead, he saw the same analytical scrutiny like before as the Colonel ate his food in silence.

Murdock's own smile faded. He sipped his juice and chicken broth and finally sat back and patted his stomach. He winked at Cyndy and motioned at the partially empty bowl and mug. In his best Humphrey Bogart impression he said, "Bogey says thanks, sweetheart."

Waiting for the others to finish supper was painful but he wanted to reserve all of his remaining strength for the performance. If he stood and walked back to the couch, he might stagger from the effort. Taking the ice pack Face offered him, he listened to the small amount of conversation among the others, willing himself to stay focused.

He was relieved when the Colonel told B. A. to drive the van up to the door.

Examining his pilot's clenched jaw determination as they entered the back stage area of the theater an hour and a half before the performance was to begin, Hannibal marveled at his strength to continue.

The Colonel sent Murdock with Cyndy to the wardrobe mistress to get ready. The sutured gash beside his eye would have to be covered with something more flesh-colored and the bruising on his temple and around his eye required a large amount of pancake makeup. Hannibal knew the external injuries could be handled without problem. He was more worried about the rest of the Captain's health.

As Face, B. A. and Hannibal stood together backstage, the Colonel laid out his plans for the evening's performance. "Face, I want you to assist Cyndy in keeping Murdock on his feet long enough to get through each scene. If any of the cast or crew, and especially young Mr. Dunlow, wanders outside, I want you to accompany them. We don't need a repeat of what happened during the full dress rehearsal."

Face nodded and walked away to find Cyndy.

"B. A., you're going to keep an eye on each person who comes in the front door. We can't rely on Empry's security force to do anything but watch the weapons and armor collection. You know what Deke Winton looks like. I wish we had some sort of photo of McKeever but we don't. Cyndy knows him but she'll be busy backstage. The best you can do is keep your eyes and ears open for any kind of suspicious behavior."

The Sergeant shook his head and looked toward the costuming area. "If his Pa slips past me, Murdock'll be dead."

"Maybe he can give you a physical description but it may be too general to be of any use." Hannibal frowned as he noticed Murdock ease himself into a chair, grimacing as he did.

He had replaced his high top tennis shoes for tall leather boots and his khaki pants and bomber jacket for black tight-fitting breeches, a full-sleeved white shirt, a black waistcoat and a red elbow-length brocade mantle. While the makeup lady applied a flesh-colored pancake mixture over the worst of the bruises, he turned a black felt hat with a feather plume around in his hands and closed his eyes.

Even from thirty feet away, the pilot appeared pale and only semi-aware of his surroundings. His breathing was shallow and through his mouth. He clutched an ice pack to his bandage-wrapped ribs.

"Better than nothin' at all. Don't like doin' this blind, Hannibal. Gotta protect the crazy man." B. A.'s clenched fists displayed his concern. "Where'll you be, Colonel?"

"I'll be in the middle front row like I was before in case something begins to happen on stage." As soon as the Sergeant stalked off to get a description of McKeever from Murdock, the older man wandered out to take his place. It was going to be a long performance, one Hannibal hoped would proceed without incident.


	52. Chapter 52 Props

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 52 Props

B. A. crossed his arms and kept one eye on the outside door to the theater alcove while pretending to read the information plaque in front of a Templar knight breastplate from the thirteenth century. In a half hour, the production would begin. So far, neither Winton nor anyone close to the description Murdock had given him of McKeever had entered the theater.

A nervous teenager in jeans and a blue and white striped polo shirt sized B. A. up before approaching him. For several seconds the kid gulped and cast sideways glances at the big man.

The Sergeant frowned and moved on to the next piece of armor. The kid followed.

B. A. scowled. He didn't know what the teenager was doing but rather than make his irritation known, he let the kid work up his nerve to talk.

"Uh . . . uh . . . " The youth jabbed his hand in his jeans pocket and dug out a crumpled white piece of paper. "Are you one o' the guys Mrs. B. hired to watch the theater?"

The black man glowered and nodded.

"Here." The teen held out the paper with one trembling hand. He kept himself at arms' length from B. A. "I was 'sposed ta give this to Smith but I 'spose you can get it to 'im jus' as easy."

As soon as B. A. accepted the note, the kid turned and darted out the door.

Moments later Douglas Empry arrived with his entourage of family members, bodyguards and company underlings. B. A. stepped back to a less crowded area of the alcove as local television cameramen, photographers and reporters surrounded Empry.

_Wonder if Hannibal knew all these news people'd be here._

The muscular Sergeant watched to make sure he wasn't accidentally caught in the background of any video or photograph. With all of the gold around his neck and his red sleeveless shirt and denim bib overalls, he knew he didn't seem the theater type and especially not a connoisseur of Shakespeare's works. If he appeared in any video or press photo, he would be sure to be recognized. He presented a rather unique and unmistakeable image.

_Last thing we need is for Decker to see me in the news. Be a perfect time for McKeever or Winton to sneak in. _

Whenever the camera lenses focused in his direction, B. A. turned his back to them and looked intently at whatever part of the armor collection was in front of him. He hoped Empry's impromptu press conference finished soon so he could get back to the business of keeping the two undesirables out of the theater.

Just as quickly as the press came to interview the oil tycoon, most of them hurried out the door to post their stories. Two or three lingered and entered the theater with Empry's large group.

B. A. took a deep breath of relief, stuffed the crumpled note in his pocket and continued his watch.

oooooo

"Here, H. M." Cyndy knelt beside the chair where Murdock rested and pressed an uncapped bottle of water into his hand. "Just a few sips."

He shook his head and pushed the bottle away. "I'm okay. How soon 'fore it starts?" He gazed at her out of half-closed eyes. Every sore joint and muscle in his body, every throbbing ache in his head, every burning breath he took, told him he should be in a hospital bed. But where he should be and what he had to do were two different things.

"It has to be soon. A large group just came in and sat down in the seats reserved for Empry and his family." Face knelt at his other side. His worried expression told Murdock exactly how bad he looked.

"Now that openin' night's here, I can feel some moths stirrin' 'round in my belly." Murdock gave Cyndy and Face a lopsided smile quickly replaced by a grimace of weariness and pain. "Never thought I'd ever be actin' on stage 'gain. Never had such a big role."

"That was only because Hollis always took the best parts away from you. Not because you couldn't act." The young woman smiled at him and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. "Just remember that."

"You're going to do fine, buddy. We'll have the ice packs and smelling salts ready back here between scenes." Face's eyes focused on the necklace around Cyndy's throat. He frowned and reached across to lift the sparkling green gem pendant in his hand. "Mind if I take a closer look?"

Cyndy shrugged. Removing the necklace, she handed it to the conman. Murdock shifted his position and watched with interest as Face removed a jeweler's loupe from his suit pocket. "See somethin' funny 'bout those stones?"

"Does he normally carry something like that around with him?" Cyndy asked the pilot, a surprised expression on her face.

Murdock snorted. "That and a lockpicking kit. Part of his standard equipment. Whatcha got, Faceman?"

The Lieutenant whistled under his breath. "I wonder if Mrs. Bartleman realizes the value of the costume jewelry the theater has in its possession."

"In other words, it ain't fake?" The injured man sat up straighter and peered at the emerald Face held in his hands.

"Let me see the other jewels."

Cyndy took the rings from her fingers and Murdock removed the clasp at the throat of his cloak.

With each examined piece, Face grew more excited. "All of these are real and of good quality, if I know my gems. Which leads me to believe that whoever sold these pieces to the theater didn't know what they had."

"Think they may be stolen?" Murdock ignored the pain in his ribs as he leaned closer to peer at the jewelry. "I mean, it'd be a good reason why someone'd try breakin' in 'n' lookin' 'round. But the props that're not bein' used for the play are locked 'way under padlock 'n' key. Costumes were, too, 'til the full dress rehearsal. Likely the only reason they didn't go missin' the night of the breakin."

Cyndy's cheeks were reddening as she stared at the necklace and other pieces in Face's hands. "You really think those may be stolen?"

Face handed the necklace and rings back. "It's a possibility. Why? Do you know where these came from?"

She gulped. "I'm afraid I do. I sold a large quantity of jewelry, framed artwork and old weapons to the Nederland Community Playhouse to use as props when I was working at Pawn 'N' Loan. These were some of the pieces I sold to Mrs. Bartleman for the theater. I noticed they had been stored in a back room for several weeks and I figured they were items that weren't valuable enough to be shown on the display floor. I was fired for selling them."

"Probably for good reason. You can bet whoever owns the pawn shop knew what he had and wanted special buyers for it." Face slipped the jeweler's lens back into his pocket.

Murdock leaned back in the folding chair and shuddered with the pain the movement caused. "Pawn 'N' Loan. If I 'member right, Gramma 'n' Grampa wouldn't have nothin' to do with 'em even when money got real tight. Said they didn' trust 'em to give 'em fair price on anythin' they'd pawn."

"Who owns Pawn 'N' Loan?" Face asked.

Cyndy chewed on her lower lip before answering. "J. M. Latreque. Hollis's father. He owned three pawn shops, a housecleaning business and a discount store in the area."

"Housecleaners, huh?" Face and Murdock exchanged glances.

"You thinkin' what I'm thinkin', Faceman?" The pilot held the bejewelled clasp in his hand, turning it over to examine it more carefully. Even in the dim backstage light, the facets of the gem sparkled.

"I'm thinking Latreque didn't care so much about this building or the property it's on. He wanted what was _inside. _Which means what's inside is so valuable, he could afford to buy a bankrupt property with all of its contents and still make a sizable profit." The conman swept a hand across his chin. "We need to look at the other things you sold to Mrs. B."

"Maybe you should hold onto these until we can talk to Hannibal." Cyndy offered the rings and necklace to Face.

Murdock shook his head and pinned the mantle back into place around his throat. He motioned for Cyndy to put her jewelry back on. "If someone still knows 'bout these sparklies, they'll be suspicious if we don't wear 'em tonight. Safest place to keep 'em is on us 'til after the show. Tomorrow maybe Hannibal can find somethin' to replace 'em. 'Sides, you said there was ol' weapons 'n' artwork. They'll want to get it all, won't they?"

Doctor Freedman in the purple robes of King Henry IV approached, followed by the other actors that were to accompany him onstage. As he passed by them, the doctor paused, scrutinized Murdock and frowned.

The Captain straightened in his chair and gave the doctor an unconvincing smile and shrug. The small group continued on to the side wing and out onto the stage.

Then they heard the applause of the audience as the curtain went up for the first act.

"Too late to tell Hannibal now," Murdock muttered. He shivered and slouched back down in the seat, waiting for the third scene and his cue.


	53. Chapter 53 Opening Night

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 53 Opening Night

As the curtain opened to the backdrop showing the main hall of Windsor Castle, Hannibal straightened in his seat. Doctor Freedman entered the stage from the right wing, his royal purple robes swirling about him. Behind him were the actors playing Henry Percy of Northumberland and Sir Walter Blunt. In their footsteps, Orville Galaham, portraying Thomas Percy, the Earl of Worcester, and Murdock followed.

Hannibal scrutinized Murdock's condition from where he sat. The pilot's stride seemed strong and steady enough. His pallor was partially concealed by the pancake makeup. If the Colonel had not known Murdock was sick and injured, he would not have noticed the slight quiver in his limbs as he stood before the Beaumont physician to say his first lines.

"'My liege, I did deny no prisoners.  
But I remember when the fight was done,  
When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil,  
Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword,  
Came there a certain lord . . . "

_Murdock could be describing his own health with those lines. _

"'I then, all smarting with my wounds being cold,  
To be so pester'd with a popinjay,  
Out of my grief and my impatience  
Answer'd neglectingly, I know not what,  
He should, or he should not, for he made me mad  
To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet,  
And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman,  
Of guns, and drums, and wounds_God save the mark!_ . . . '"

Hannibal listened carefully for any falter in the pilot's speech but Murdock's performance was flawless. He delivered his lines with passion, his eyes flashing with indignation and anger in the right spots as he addressed first the king and then his stage father and uncle. The Colonel glanced over at Douglas Empry and saw him nodding with satisfaction. The patron of Nederland Community Playhouse seemed pleased so far with the performance. Mrs. Bartleman did not need to worry about the oil tycoon continuing to support the theater so long as it remained solvent.

With the first act over, the Colonel knew there were six more scenes in which Murdock would have to be on stage. Thankfully, the next three appearances of Hotspur were spaced far apart. Between scenes, Hannibal hoped Face and Cyndy could administer whatever first aid the Captain would need before his next entrance.

_Hang in there, Murdock. You're doing good so far. Stay focused. _

Murdock's acting continued to be strong, his movement around the stage done with the right amount of agitation and fervor as befitted the nickname Hotspur. The older man began to wonder if he had misjudged the pilot's condition.

And when Evan Dunlow delivered the fatal blow with the prop sword, Hannibal almost sighed with relief that Murdock had completed his part of _Henry IV _ this opening night without seeming to suffer worse injury. Hotspur's final lines were chilling enough and reminded the Colonel of his thoughts the previous night when the pilot howled his frustration at Billy for leaving him alive and on this side of Heaven.

"'O Harry, thou hast robb'd me of my youth.  
I better brook the loss of brittle life  
Than those proud titles thou hast won of me.  
They wound my thoughts worse than thy sword my flesh.  
But thoughts (the slaves of life) and life (time's fool)  
And time, that takes survey of all the world,  
Must have a stop. O, I could prophesy,  
But that the earthy and cold hand of death  
Lies on my tongue. No, Percy, thou art dust,  
And food for_'"

With a final exhalation, he let his head fall slightly to one side, his closed eyes visible to the audience. Every muscle in his body went slack. Even Hannibal thought he looked more dead than alive.

When Falstaff rose from the stage where he had fallen while faking his own demise, he peered intently at the pilot's body. Stollmeier seemed so unsure of what he saw that he delayed his soliloquy for a few seconds.

_He probably remembers the last time he rehearsed this scene with Murdock before we made the changes to the script. _

The Colonel squinted at the fallen man from where he sat. He was satisfied to see his chest just barely rising and falling with his shallow breaths.

Hannibal was grateful Mrs. Bartleman agreed to alter the blocking of the third scene of the fifth act. Pete Stollmeier wouldn't have to carry Murdock and drop him at the feet of Evan Dunlow and Prince John as originally written.

Until the curtain fell on the battlefield at the end of the fourth scene, the injured man could rest on the stage. The minutes between Hotspur's death and Doctor Freedman's last speech might give the injured man enough time to recoup before the curtain calls at the end of the play. Hannibal hoped Cyndy and Face could revive Murdock enough to take his bows with the rest of the cast. He certainly deserved whatever applause the audience would give him for this performance.

After that, while Face and Cyndy stayed for the opening night reception backstage, B. A. and Hannibal planned to whisk the pilot back to the farmhouse to get some much-needed rest. The injured man protested on the way to the theater, wanting to enjoy the company of the cast and crew he had worked with for two weeks but the Colonel insisted. Doctor Freedman promised to bring Face and Cyndy back to the homestead and give them all an update on the situation at the hospital.

Thunderous applause broke out as the curtain closed after the last scene. The first group to take their bows was Doctor Freedman, Evan Dunlow and Pete Stollmeier. They were joined by the actors who had portrayed Prince John of Lancaster, Ralph Neville and Sir Walter Blunt. They represented King Henry IV's army.

The next curtain call was reserved for members of the Percy family and their allies. When all but Murdock appeared onstage, Hannibal frowned. He considered slipping backstage to see what had happened to the injured man but decided to wait.

The group of actors left the stage to wild applause. The Colonel was relieved when the curtain parted and Murdock came out, Cyndy's arm linked through his. The young woman seemed to be supporting at least part of his weight as they took their bows. Out of the corner of his eye, Hannibal noticed Empry stand and applaud enthusiastically. The rest of the audience did the same.

Murdock swayed on his feet and then grinned at Hannibal. The Colonel stood and acknowledged his performance with a nod and a sharp salute. The Captain's grin grew even wider before Cyndy wrapped her arm around his waist and murmured a few words to him. Reaching up to give him a gentle kiss on his cheek, she helped him leave the stage.

For the last curtain call of the evening, the entire cast formed a line across the stage, Dunlow in the center with Murdock on one side of him and Doctor Freedman on the other. Cyndy grasped Murdock's other hand as the cast members all joined hands and took a final bow. As the cast members retreated behind the curtains, Hannibal picked his way through the crowd to the door leading to the backstage.

Face and Cyndy were assisting the injured man in removing his chain mail. He looked exhausted but pleased.

"I did good, didn' I, Hann'bal? You heard 'em, didn' you?" His excited eyes wandered from Face to the Colonel.

"You did more than good, Captain." Hannibal's beaming grin satisfied Murdock and he leaned back in the chair, a blissful smile playing across his lips.

"I could do this for a livin'," he sighed, his eyelids half-closed. At that moment, Hannibal thought he looked more like a contented child after a full day at an amusement park than a seasoned Viet Nam veteran pilot.

The Colonel glanced at Cyndy, remembering what she said and added, "I was never so proud of you, Murdock." The small sentence demonstrating an almost father-like pride seemed strange coming from his mouth.

He wasn't certain but he thought he saw the Captain's smile grow wider as the words registered. "Thanks, Hannibal. Means a lot to me comin' from you." His hoarse response barely concealed his surprise.

Gazing at Cyndy, focusing on the necklace at her throat, Murdock frowned. "Gotta secure this jewelry, Colonel. It ain't the costume stuff we thought it was. There's weapons 'n' artwork, too, that ain't what it seems. Show 'im, Face."

As the Lieutenant removed the jeweler's loupe from his pocket and gave it and one of Cyndy's rings to the Colonel to inspect, Murdock began to cough. He staggered to his feet and reeled to the rear theater door, Cyndy following him. "'Scuse me, Hann'bal. Think I'm gonna be sick."

Hannibal frowned at Face as he returned the lens. "Make sure all of the jewelry from the cast is secured and locked away immediately. Tell Mrs. Bartleman I will be meeting with her tomorrow. We need to stash the valuable items from the theater in a bank vault and replace at least the jewelry with costume pieces. I've got to get B. A. and take the Captain back home. I think he's had enough for the night."

As Face moved toward the theater owner, the Colonel picked his way toward the rear door to check on Murdock. While he was glad Latreque's now obvious plan had not come together, he realized Winton might know enough to still be a problem. The mission was far from complete.


	54. Chapter 54 The Limits of His Endurance

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 54 The Limits of His Endurance

The moment Hannibal opened the door to the theater parking lot, he realized how much Murdock had pushed the limits of his endurance.

The side door of the van was open but no one was in it. B. A. and Cyndy knelt beside the pilot where he lay on the asphalt four feet away. Both arms were wrapped around his ribs and he had drawn his knees up and curled his body into a fetal position. As the Colonel hurried to them, he heard spasmodic deep-chested coughing.

"Li'l sis was helpin' the fool across the parkin' lot. I unlocked the door an' opened it, turned 'round an' he was layin' here." B. A. lowered himself into a sitting position and lifted Murdock to rest against his chest. The injured man panted short wheezing breaths as he leaned back, squeezing his eyes shut briefly, then opening them wide as if with great effort.

He tried to smile at Hannibal but it became a ghastly grimace instead. "I'll be 'kay. I'll be fine. Jus' a little weak in the knees, tha's all." He coughed again, a handkerchief pressed to his mouth in an effort to stifle the sound.

"Who do you think you're fooling, Captain?" The curt question made the pilot flinch. Hannibal hadn't meant for his tone to be so harsh. He didn't want to rob the younger man of his dignity or the childlike joy he had witnessed backstage minutes before.

Murdock's smile vanished completely. His eyes bored into the Colonel. For seconds the two men stared at each other, neither giving ground.

An elegantly dressed older couple, laughing and talking about the performance, left the theater and strolled to a silver Mercedes parked across the street. The woman glanced over with curiosity to the scene being played out in the parking lot and commented to her partner. With a slight frown, her mate quickly guided her to the car where their chauffeur waited with an open door. Neither Murdock nor the Colonel glanced in their direction but both were aware of the couple's disapproving stares as the driver turned out into traffic.

Then Murdock broke the impasse with a muttered command. It was directed at B. A. but his gaze never left Hannibal's face.

"Jus' get me in the van, get me home 'n' I'll be fine." His words were measured and emphatic. His eyes were wild and feverish. The Sergeant shook his head in frustration and waited for the Colonel's instructions.

"We may need to talk to Doctor Freedman about our options. You need a whole lot more than rest." Hannibal's voice grew quiet.

Murdock clenched his fists and glared at the older man. He nudged B. A. in the stomach with his elbow."You heard me, Sergeant. I don' pull rank on ya very much but this time, do what _I_ say. I ain't finished my job. I go to the hospital now, the theater's done." When the black man continued to hesitate, Murdock's voice became louder and more insistent. "Tell 'im, Colonel!"

The older man sighed and nodded to B. A. The muscular black man shifted his position and knelt, placing the pilot's arm over his shoulders. "Ready?" Murdock gave a quick nod and groaned when B. A. lifted him to his feet and helped him to the van.

"Sorry, man," B. A. mumbled.

"Ya gotta do what ya gotta do. No sorrys needed, Big Guy." The injured man gripped the head rest of the front passenger seat and the arm rest of the rear seat.

"Lemme help ya in," B. A. warned. Before he could position himself to boost Murdock up, the pilot put one foot up on the van floor. He pulled himself in and collapsed face first onto the floor. Rolling onto his side, curling up and clutching his abdomen, he let a whimper escape from his lips.

"Maybe I should go with you." As Cyndy began to get into the van, Hannibal patted her on the shoulder.

"We can handle it. You and Face enjoy the party." She drew in a breath to protest.

From the van's dim interior, Murdock rasped, "Now you deserve every bit o' that fun they're havin' in there. You kept me on my feet 'n' still managed ta be the prettiest Lady Kate I ever saw. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't a made it through. You go 'n' have some cake 'n' champagne for me, 'kay? I'll be there when ya get home."

Hannibal took the young lady by the elbow and escorted her, still hesitant, to the rear theater door. "Right now all you could do is sit by his bedside. He doesn't need that. He needs rest. You and Face can sit with him later when he's sleeping."

"If he gets worse, you'll call the theater?" Cyndy paused. She glanced back at the open van door where B. A. knelt, talking softly to the pilot and draping a blanket over him. Biting her lip to hold back her emotions, she gripped the Colonel's hand. "Promise?"

"If he gets worse, I'll have B. A. call and tell you." _But I don't know how much worse his condition can get. We're losing him little by little and I can't do a thing about it. Even if we slip him into the hospital, he won't stay. Not willingly._

Hannibal pressed the young lady's hand in reassurance and opened the door for her. As he closed it after her, his hand drifted to his shirt pocket to fish out a cigar. He prepared and lit it, not thinking about anything but the injured man in the back of the van.

He stood, smoking the cigar in silence, watching an uncharacteristically gentle B. A. fuss over Murdock. The pilot waved a hand at the Sergeant to push him away. Even from that distance, Hannibal noted how exhausted the Captain seemed to be.

By now the Colonel had memorized every line and blocking movement the younger man had to say and do in the play. Hannibal once again pondered filling in and letting him rest Saturday evening.

As if reading the older man's mind, Murdock called weakly from his prone position. "Ya comin, Hann'bal? Gotta get home, get my beauty sleep. Tomorrow's 'nother performance, ya know."

The Colonel nodded and absentmindedly crossed the asphalt to take his seat in the van. _Another day, another performance. But will he still be able to stand when it's all over?_


	55. Chapter 55 No Hospital

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 55 No Hospital

Face clasped Cyndy's hand in his as they followed Doctor Freedman up the path to the old farmhouse. He was tempted to stay out on the veranda with her. Two nights before they spent half the night watching the fireflies skim the tops of weeds and settle on the porch railings. They were so comfortable together he had not wanted to do anything more than hold her closely and breathe in the vanilla scent of her hair. He never felt that way around a beautiful woman like her.

From her worried expression most of the night, he realized Murdock was in worse condition than ever before. She was distracted throughout the opening night party and said very little to anyone.

So when they neared the farmhouse door, he leaned over to whisper in her ear. "He's tougher than he was twenty years ago, you know. A lot tougher. He'll beat this, whatever it is."

She shook her head. "He's getting worse and worse every day. He tries so hard to keep it from all of us, especially from Hannibal. But I can tell."

Face let the doctor enter the house before them. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he drew her near. "He'll beat this." He repeated it more to convince himself than to encourage her. He wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair as she buried her face into his shoulder and cried.

As he thought about his friend's delirium, the coughing fits that wouldn't stop, his increasingly gaunt and pale appearance, he couldn't deny what she said. His stomach knotted with the memory of the grave and what Murdock said to him when they found him. "Shoulda . . . left me 'lone. Billy said . . . it'd be alright."

_It can't be that serious. I mean, he survived Nam. He's walked away from plane and chopper accidents that should've killed him. Hannibal won't let him die. **We** won't let him. _

The farmhouse door opened and B. A. came out. Cyndy pulled away from the Lieutenant, questioning the black man with her intense gaze.

"He's been sleepin' ever since we got home. Hard to wake 'im up 'nough to get 'im inside." He stepped aside as Cyndy swept past him and into the farmhouse. The Sergeant settled himself on the porch steps and stared into the distance toward the tree line framing the farm.

"He'll be alright, B. A. I mean, you know Murdock. He just needs a lot of rest. Two more performances and then we can let him rest as much as he needs until next weekend. He'll get better." Face knew he was talking fast, saying anything to fill the silence.

When B. A. looked up, his expression was unreadable. He said nothing, just stared at him, then turned his eyes away. "Maybe you better go inside, Faceman. Help Hannibal."

"What about you?" Face paused, his hand on the door knob.

"Need some fresh air. I'll be there'n a few minutes." He heard the mumbled answer but did not see the expression accompanying it.

_Probably better if I didn't._

He frowned and went inside.

Doctor Freedman and Hannibal stood together at the foot of the couch. As he moved over to sit beside his friend lying there, Face sensed he had come into a heated argument.

Cyndy perched in the kitchen chair at the head of the couch. A chipped enamel basin was on the floor beside her and she rinsed a washcloth out in the water with her uninjured hand. She folded it and gently placed it on Murdock's forehead. His eyes were closed but his lips moved as the two men argued. He seemed too weak to make his words more than a whisper.

Face met the young woman's gaze and cringed inside with the sorrow and worry he saw.

_How come I didn't notice how bad Murdock's condition was getting? Was I that much in denial? _

"I've observed enough of his actions backstage to know that he's very ill and should have been checked at the hospital when he first got injured." The doctor's face was flushed as he argued with the Colonel.

"And Mrs. Bartleman told you that if questions were to be asked when he was receiving that medical attention, all of us would have to leave Texas in a hurry. _All_ of us, _including him_." Hannibal's eyes were flinty blue as he acknowledged Face's presence in the room with a brief nod.

"Rest alone isn't going to heal him. He shouldn't be on stage the remainder of this weekend. He should be in the hospital." The doctor crossed his arms. "What kind of leader pushes his men until they die from the effort?"

Face glanced at the Colonel. An expression of remorse made Hannibal seem ten years older than he was. Anger driving his outburst, the Lieutenant pushed himself to his feet and faced the doctor. "He's one helluva _good_ leader. You don't know him. _We do._ Don't _ever_ question his leadership. You got that?"

Hannibal silenced him with a raised hand. His gaze landed on Murdock, then on his Lieutenant. "I appreciate your loyalty, Face, but . . ."

Murdock's whispers had become a rasp. "No hospital." The three men stared at him as he repeated the words with more force. "_No . . . hospital!_"

Hannibal lowered his voice. "I've respected his wishes until now. Is there any way of treating him here instead?"

Even as the Colonel asked the question, Doctor Freedman was shaking his head. "What I've seen and what you've told me indicates something more than bruised ribs. It could be pneumonia but I wouldn't rule out a partially collapsed lung. If the lung was more damaged than that, he would be dead by now. The _only_ way I can be sure is by having X-rays taken of his chest and running samples of his sputum through the lab. If it's pneumonia, the treatment depends on whether it's bacterial or viral."

B. A. entered the room, his hand clenched around a white crumpled piece of paper. When he heard the doctor's words, he stopped where he was. His other hand formed a fist.

"Crazy man don't have no choice, Colonel. Neither do we. We gotta know how ta take care of 'im."

Murdock forced his eyes open. "Help me sit up, Cyndy," he whispered. She shook her head.

He bent his arms and propped himself up on his elbows. Pushing himself into a sitting position, he glared at the doctor. "No . . . hospital. That's . . . final." His strength gave out and he fell back into the pillows. For several seconds he struggled to control his breathing before adding, "Still got more revs in this engine than ya'll think. Do what ya gotta do to keep the engine runnin' 'til this weekend's over. Then we'll talk."

Face watched in stunned silence as his best friend drifted back into a semi-conscious delirium and then sleep.

"You heard him, doc." Hannibal clenched his teeth and folded his arms, regretting the words he had to say. "How do we keep him running through the weekend?"

"Hannibal!" B. A. gripped the older man's shoulder. He glanced at the sleeping pilot and then at his CO. Dropping his hand to his side in resignation, he muttered, "Like the man said, we'll do what we gotta."

The doctor looked at each of them in turn and sighed. "If one of you gentlemen will go out to my car and get my bag, I'll see what I can do for now."


	56. Chapter 56 Of Samples and Notes

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 56 Of Samples and Notes

After a visit to the Beaumont hospital to get some supplies, Doctor Freedman stayed most of the night at the farmstead. Each man took turns keeping company with the doctor and making sure Murdock drank enough fluids so he could produce enough sputum for a lab sample.

Cyndy stayed by his side, monitoring and recording his temperature and blood pressure. When not taking note of his vital signs, she held his hand or cooled his feverish face with a damp wash cloth.

Toward morning the doctor had Hannibal wake the pilot to get him to cough. Murdock woke slowly. Disoriented, he swung his fist in the Colonel's direction before realizing who had roused him. The blow had no power behind it and Hannibal easily gripped his wrist before it could land.

"Sorry, Colonel. Thought you were Pa." The injured man shook his head and rubbed at his eyes with one hand.

"We need a sample of your sputum, Captain," the Colonel explained as he helped him swing his legs over the edge of the couch and sit up. Hannibal could feel the fever they had been monitoring all night radiating from Murdock's body.

Cyndy handed him a bottle of water. "Rinse out your mouth first, then take some deep breaths."

The pain etched on the younger man's face as he obeyed the instructions made Hannibal wince. "Hurts so bad ta breathe," Murdock wheezed.

"I know, Captain." The Colonel patted him on the knee. "Just try."

The doctor exchanged places with Hannibal. "Now lean forward a little and try to cough as deeply as you can." Perching on the edge of the couch, he tapped the pilot's chest and back with a cupped hand to loosen the mucus in the lungs. When Murdock began coughing, his whole body shivered with the spasms. He sagged after the last cough produced enough sputum to satisfy Doctor Freedman.

"Can I lay back down now?" The pilot's voice was a barely audible whisper.

As soon as the sample was safely capped in a sterile lab cup, the doctor stood and let Cyndy get Murdock settled back under the blankets.

"I'll get a lab tech who owes me to run a Gram stain and culture. The stain will tell us if there's bacteria or a large amount of white blood cells present." Doctor Freedman paused at the dining room door. "I'll still need to get some chest X-rays but we'll see what this turns up first. I'll be back as soon as I get some results."

"I appreciate that, doc. We'll call you at the hospital if we need you sooner." Hannibal shook the doctor's hand.

Before he left, the physician added, "By the way, young Mr. Latreque is in room 131. You shouldn't encounter any police when you go to see him. They seem to have asked all of their questions. I think they're focused on finding Deke Winton now."

As the doctor left in his car, B. A. came in from the barn. He wandered over to the kitchen without a word and opened the ice chest to get out a gallon of milk. Pouring himself a glass, he leaned against the kitchen counter and focused his eyes on the floor at his feet.

"Ain't dead yet, Big Guy." At the sound of Murdock's unsteady voice, B. A. lifted his eyes toward the couch. Hannibal wasn't sure but he thought a smile appeared briefly on the big man's face.

Then B. A. stared down into his glass and took a hefty swallow. Wiping his mouth with his hand he muttered, "Ain't gonna be either, if I got anythin' to say 'bout it, fool."

"Well, ya coulda at leas' said good mornin'." The Colonel was satisfied to see a mischievous twinkle in the injured man's eyes.

B. A. grunted and turned to Hannibal. Removing a piece of paper from his pocket, he held it out. "Wit' all the worry last night, I forgot to give ya this, Colonel. Kid came in, tol' me to get it to ya, then ran out fas' as he came in."

The older man took the paper and carefully unfolded it, pressing out the wrinkles of the page on his chest before looking at it. Scanning the text, he shook his head and scowled.

"What's up, Hannibal?" Murdock twisted around to get a better view and took in a sharp breath. "Gotta 'member not ta do that, don' I, Buttercup?" He gave Cyndy a weak smile and eased himself back into a more comfortable position. She repositioned the blankets over him and gently smoothed his wispy hair back from his forehead. "So . . . what's it say, Colonel?"

"Deke Winton wants to meet with me at the theater this afternoon. He says he has something that'll make your testimony against your father unnecessary." Hannibal handed Murdock the note and scrutinized his expression as he read and passed it to Cyndy.

"Deke Winton? He that guy that 'most gave me a new hole in my head? The one that shot Hollis 'stead a me? He don' say what he's got on my Pa." The injured man stared at the Colonel, trying to gauge what he was going to do. His eyes widened as he recognized the look on his leader's face. "You ain't gonna meet with 'im, are ya?"

"Yeah, Hannibal. What if it's a trick?" B. A. set his empty glass on the table and sat down in the armchair at the foot of the couch.

"Well, that's why I'm not going to talk to him without you or Face with me." Hannibal gestured for Cyndy to hand the note to B. A. The black man read and returned it. He crossed his arms and glared at the older man.

To Murdock, Hannibal said, "I think it's worth finding out what he's got if it keeps all of us one step ahead of the police and Decker."

"I know what I saw. You don' need a murderin' mudsucker to get my Pa. You got me." Murdock's voice rose in protest.

Hannibal snapped back, "When the press gets hold of this, the news stories might attract national attention. If you're forced to tell the police what you witnessed twenty years ago, we'll have to leave you here to do it. But you'll have some explaining to do about how you managed to get all the way from Los Angeles to southeastern Texas on your own."

"I done it 'fore. Can look forward to a nice long rest under restraints 'n' supervision once I get back. Be hard to spring me for a while but if it puts my Pa where he belongs behin' bars 'n' makes 'im pay for what he did, I'll do it." He gazed at Hannibal with pleading eyes. "Winton was gonna kill me. What makes ya think he won' try the same with you?"

"Because his boss is dead and this sounds like the sort of bargain a desperate man would make. If he has something on your father he knows he's as much a target as you are. The information is his bargaining chip. I'm curious about what he expects in exchange." Hannibal gave all three a wide smile. "B. A., we're going to need the Corvette and El Camino finished in case we need to leave Texas in a hurry. You rest up for tonight's performance, Captain, while I take Face into Nederland to go jewelry shopping and meet with Winton."


	57. Chapter 57 Switcheroos and Flashbacks

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 57 Switcheroos and Flashbacks

Well before the time Deke Winton arranged to meet with Hannibal, Face drove the Colonel to the theater. While Hannibal unlocked the rear theater door with a key Mrs. Bartleman had given him for security purposes, Face opened the back of the van.

Holding a necklace with faux green emeralds in his hands, the Lieutenant remarked, "These jewels don't even come close to looking like the real thing, Colonel."

"Is that according to your trained eye or just a general observation?" Hannibal edged his unlit cigar to the side of his mouth as he stacked together four framed oil paintings to carry in.

Face thought for a moment. "Well, they might fool the cast, crew and audience but the ones who want these stones so badly they'd kill for them might know the difference."

"But if Winton or anyone with him are in a hurry, will they spend the time appraising the goods or will they get them out of the theater as fast as they can and get it all appraised later?" Hannibal grinned. "I know what _I'd _do. But I suspect we aren't dealing with people who are very bright. They'll grab first and ask questions later."

The younger man sighed and put the fake jewels back in the velveteen bag. "I hope you're right. So we replace the stolen goods with this stuff just in case Winton's still interested in making some money with Latreque's old clientele. Then we meet with Mrs. Bartleman and have her place the stolen goods in a vault for safekeeping."

"And then we meet with Winton to find out what he has and what he wants. If it all goes smoothly we should be able to get back to the farm and enjoy an early supper before coming back for this evening's performance." Hannibal handed Face the oil paintings and took the bag containing the costume jewelry. Hefting a duffel bag with prop swords, crossbows and guns, he followed the Lieutenant into the backstage area.

"Come on, Face. You're slowing down. We haven't got all day." The Colonel watched as the conman picked the padlock on the storage closet containing the costumes and jewelry. As soon as the lock clicked open, Face threw back the hasp and started to pick the lock on the prop closet.

"Why, Colonel, I'm a little hurt. I thought I did that in record time. Besides, you weren't holding a stop watch on me this time." The conman gave his leader a scornful glance before turning his attention back to the padlock.

Hannibal worked quickly with the contents of the closet. "Okay, got the real jewelry in the bag and the fakes in their places. The wardrobe mistress won't know the difference."

Face finished substituting the stolen art work and weapons with those they had purchased and relocked the closet. "Ditto here, Colonel."

"Then let's meet Mrs. B. at the bank and get these goods in that vault." The two men hauled the stolen items out to the van and were on their way in minutes.

Neither man recognized the light blue Mercury Cougar that slowly passed by as they stored the last of the items in the back of the van. The car parked to the side of the street between a dark blue van and a white station wagon and waited for the van to pass before turning out into traffic to follow at a distance.

oooooo

Cyndy wiped down the kitchen table with her uncasted hand. Hannibal had promised to be back around four so they could all eat together.

_Well, at least nearly all of us. _

She glanced behind her at the couch where Murdock whispered agitated unintelligible words in his sleep. As she watched, he kicked, uncovering his legs and sending the bottom half of the blankets to the floor.

B. A. was at work in the barn. Before he left, he promised to be in every hour to check whether she needed anything. It was almost time for him to come in. He said he would chop up the vegetables and open any cans she wanted. All she would have to do is cook the meal. As he said it, he had tucked the blankets in around Murdock and made sure he took a couple of aspirin and several sips of water for his fever.

A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

_Big old teddy bear really does care about H. M. He just doesn't want anyone to know. But he doesn't fool me one bit. _

She drifted over to the foot of the couch and covered the injured man's legs again. His face pinched with pain and with something else that looked like fear. With memories from twenty years before flooding her mind, she sat down in the kitchen chair at the head of the couch.

"I wonder where you are right now, H. M." She had not realized she said the words aloud. Instinctively she reached out and stroked his flushed cheek, making shushing sounds as she did. She did not expect him to wake up but he did.

He gripped her wrist so suddenly she flinched. His eyes focused on her but she knew he did not recognize her. She fell to her knees as he pulled her closer to him until their faces were inches apart.

"Hãy để tôi về nhà. (Let me go home.)"

She strained to free herself but his hold tightened. His voice was a hiss and his eyes narrowed as he repeated his words. "Hãy để tôi về nhà."

"I . . . I don't understand. You're hurting me." He jerked her forward again by her wrist. The threat behind his glare frightened her. He clenched his teeth and forced out the sentence a third time. "_Hãy để tôi về nhà!_"

The front door opened and closed. Hearing the sound, he released her and dug his feet into the cushions of the couch to push himself into a sitting position. His eyes widened with fear as B. A.'s muscular figure filled the doorway to the dining room. He raised his arms automatically in front of his face to shield himself. Cyndy slid herself backwards across the floor a few feet away. Terrified, she froze in place and watched him.

"Tránh xa! (Stay away!) Tránh xa!" As he curled his body into a tight ball, knees up as close to his chest as he could get them, he gasped out, "Bao cao! Bao cao!"

"What's he trying to say?" The young woman trembled as she gazed at B. A. for the interpretation.

"Said that in the POW camp when we had ta have someone spoke English 'stead of Vietnamese. He thinks he's back there." The Sergeant stayed in the doorway in sight of Cyndy but not in the pilot's view. "Face's usually best at doin' this, gettin' 'im back. Wish he was here right now. He don't recognize me, sees me as a threat. You're gonna have to talk 'im through this, lil sis."

"I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say." She hugged her arms around herself as she watched Murdock tremble. He began to hum "This Old Man" softly, rocking slightly back and forth, keeping his face covered with his arms.

"Got 'n idea. Start sayin' your lines, see if it breaks through to 'im." When she frowned at him, B. A. shrugged. "Can't hurt, can it?"

She drew in an uncertain breath.

"'O my good lord, why are you thus alone?  
For what offence have I this fortnight been  
A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed?'"

She stopped, a blush creeping up her neck and to her cheeks. The Sergeant shifted position and glanced at the man on the couch. He had stopped humming but not rocking.

"Keep goin', Cyndy. He's listenin'." B. A.'s relieved words came out in a quiet rumble. Her distressed eyes sought contact with the pilot as she continued.

"'Tell me sweet lord, what is't that takes from thee  
Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep?  
Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth,  
And start so often when thou sitt'st alone?'"

The rocking movement ceased and B. A. nodded at her to keep the monologue going. Her eyes filled with tears at her next lines.

"'Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks,

And given my treasures and my rights of thee  
To thick-eyed musing, and curst melancholy?  
In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch'd,  
And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars,  
Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed,  
Cry 'Courage! To the field!' And thou hast talk'd  
Of sallies and retires, of trenches, tents,  
Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets,  
Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin,  
Of prisoners' ransom, and of soldiers slain,  
And all the currents of a heady fight.'"

B. A. frowned and said out loud, "Shakespeare wrote that?"

At his voice the pilot lowered his arms and looked at Cyndy with tormented eyes and a grief-distorted expression. She nodded at the Sergeant and crept to within two feet of Murdock. Drawing another deep breath, she went on, slowly closing the gap between them.

"'Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war,  
And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep,  
That beads of sweat hath stood upon thy brow  
Like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream;  
And in thy face strange motions have appear'd,  
Such as we see when men restrain their breath,  
On some great sudden hest. O what portents are these?  
Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,  
And I must know it. Else he loves me not.'"

She cautiously raised herself from the floor to sit, facing him on the couch. His eyes had lost their threatening glare. Red-rimmed and war-weary, they were glazed with tears. Not taking her eyes from his, she opened her arms and carefully shifted position until he rested in her embrace. Cyndy heard a relieved sigh from the doorway. "Good job, lil sis."

"Dani." Murdock mumbled the name in her ear and wrapped his arms around her tighter.

She willed herself to think only of his welfare and not the piercing pain the single word caused her heart.


	58. Chapter 58 Testimony for a Price

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 58 Testimony for a Price

Hannibal sat in an overstuffed armchair and waited in the shadows. A cast-off from a rummage sale, the chair was purchased months ago to be utilized onstage for a production of Harold Pinter's play _The Caretaker_. Mrs. Bartleman had it positioned backstage so Murdock could rest in between scenes without having to go very far.

Face concealed himself behind one of the backdrops within view of the Colonel. After accompanying Mrs. Bartleman to the bank and ensuring the stolen collectibles and jewelry were secure in the vault, they had come back to the theater for the appointment with Deke Winton. "You don't think that note was a distraction to get us away from the farm, do you, Hannibal?" The Lieutenant checked the time on his watch, and, keeping his voice low, added, "He's a little late. What if it wasn't Winton that wrote the note? What if it was Murdock's father?"

"We have to take that chance. You just make sure that recorder is working and it picks up what we say. If it was Winton and he has something that will put McKeever behind bars without Murdock having to do a thing . . . " The Colonel put a finger to his lips and shook his head, focusing his gaze on the door.

The conman tensed, hearing the door handle rattle slightly. He glanced once more at Hannibal and melted deeper into the shadows behind the backdrop. There was a mechanical click from that direction as Face started recording.

"It's unlocked. Come on in." Hannibal raised his hand and unsnapped the leather strap holding his Smith and Wesson in its shoulder holster. He kept his hand curled around the grip of his gun as the door edged open.

Deke Winton poked his head inside the dimly lit backstage area, then emerged completely. One hand was tucked inside his jacket pocket. He squinted toward the solitary figure watching him from the armchair.

"Smith?" He paused at the door, listening for affirmation before coming nearer.

"Mr. Winton." Hannibal acknowledged him and waited.

"Las' time I met you, I was persuadin' your man 'n' his young lady to come with me to see Mr. Latreque. I presume you heard about his death." The ex-security guard sneered but his eyes darted fervently around him as if expecting someone to attack him at any moment.

"Murder, wasn't it? Was it you?" The Colonel's voice was cool and cautious.

"Hell, no. Latreque was my boss. He paid me well for my services. Why would I kill him?" Winton's hand moved nervously inside his pocket. He shifted from one foot to the other and glanced around at his surroundings again before settling his eyes back on Hannibal.

"Why would you try to kill Murdock?"

Winton grinned but the expression was without humor. "Now, you're a team leader. You should know the answer to that. You give orders to yer men 'n' they obey, don' they? Same with me 'n' Latreque. Orders were to stop the play. One o' the main characters die, there's nothin' more to worry 'bout that way, right?"

"Except when _I_ give an order, I expect my men to avoid killing anyone, _especially_ those that don't play by the same rules. _We_ figure they should be allowed their day in court." Hannibal kept his tone calm even though his gut told him he would rather put a bullet in this man's head for trying to murder his pilot and friend. Then he gave Winton a chilling smile. "It's the American way."

The two men stared at each other, each sizing the other up.

"Latreque gave me _lotsa_ leeway when he tol' me to do somethin'." Winton glared at the man in the chair. "Talkin' 'bout methods o' gettin' things done weren' the reason for this meetin'."

"So talk." Hannibal set his jaw firmly. He wasn't about to seem hungry for the information the other man had. Eagerness could work to their disadvantage.

Winton swiped his hand across the back of his neck and chuckled. "What I got for you don' come free. You want it, you're gonna hafta pay for it."

Hannibal allowed for a few seconds of silence before answering. "I figured that. What did you have in mind? And how do I know your information will be worth the price?"

"I'm one o' only three people knows McKeever killed someone twenty years 'go. One's Harris Lahman, good friend o' mine, 'n' he ain' in no condition to tell nobody nothin'. Maybe later, but not now." He peered at the Colonel and chuckled again when he saw a spark of interest reflected in Hannibal's expression. "I see you heard 'bout that, too."

"Lahman was found in a Pontiac Catalina barely alive after his garage burned down around him. I suspect that Catalina belonged to McKeever at one time. Am I right?"

"Twenty years 'go that car hauled Beau Delton's corpse from Lake Charles back here 'n' out to the Murdock farm." Winton's eyes glinted in the low light.

Hannibal nodded. "Even if Lahman's condition improves, whatever evidence was in that car became worthless in the fire. If he didn't see Delton's body, his testimony wouldn't prove anything. You said there were two others."

Winton smirked. "Second one's your man Murdock. 'Bout the time McKeever killed Delton, your man ended up'n the hospital barely 'live, beat badly. Broken arm, concussion, in a coma for a couple a weeks. 'Stead o' graduatin' with his class, he hightailed it outta here soon as he was cut loose. Got his diploma but didn' show for the festivities. Found out through the rumor mill McKeever did it."

The Colonel settled back in the chair but kept his hand on his gun. "Go on."

"Only reason McKeever kept the kid 'live was for booze money. If he tried to kill 'im, there was good reason. I knew McKeever made a trip out to the farm, back pasture area. Followed 'im myself." The ex-security guard stared at the man in the armchair.

Hannibal shrugged. If Winton was the third witness, he wanted to hear it from the man himself. "So? He could have been visiting his son."

Winton snarled back at the Colonel. "He weren't visitin'. He was buryin'. I saw 'im beat Delton to death with a baseball bat over ta Lake Charles."

"You didn't tell the police at the time. You could have prevented McKeever from trying to kill Murdock." Hannibal felt white hot rage burning inside him. Some of the Captain's internal torment could have been spared if this man had done the right thing twenty years before. "Why didn't you?"

"My boss wanted somethin' on McKeever. Call it an old grudge. For 'bout fifteen years, Delton 'n' McKeever were runnin' 'shine 'cross state lines to Lake Charles. Cut into Latreque's business interests. Competition." Winton snorted. "They had a fallin' out. Don' know what over. Don' really care. Rumors were Murdock's Ma 'n' Delton were an item 'fore she died. Maybe it was that. Latreque had me keepin' an eye on 'em whenever they were in Lake Charles. That's how I saw it."

The Colonel's gaze bored through the ex-security guard. "Memories can be faulty. After twenty years maybe the police won't believe you, especially not after you shot Hollis Latreque. How are you going to prove it?"

Winton scowled before answering. "I wrote down everythin' I saw in Latreque's presence the day of the murder. Latreque kept a copy of my signed and witnessed statement in his safe for twenty years. I had a second copy and the original is in a safe deposit box in a Beaumont bank."

"Okay. So you were an eyewitness to Delton's murder. Why not take it to the police? Why approach us?" The Colonel hoped Face was recording all of this.

"Because I seen you take somethin' belonged to Mr. Latreque outta this theater 'n' down to the bank. It don't belong to you or the ol' lady. Latreque's been wantin' it back ever since that Berquon woman sold it to the theater. She had no right to sell it." Winton's eyes glittered and his hand formed a balled up lump in his jacket pocket.

"If Latreque wants it back, let him resurrect himself and come get it. It didn't belong to him either and you know it." Hannibal examined his unhidden gloved hand and tightened his grip on his gun. Out of the corner of his eye he watched for any flinching movement of the other man's arm.

Winton's gaze fell on the hand the Colonel concealed under his jacket. He seemed to consider for a few seconds before slowly drawing his own hand from his pocket and dropping it to his side. "You really don' wan' your man Murdock to have to stay 'n' answer questions, do ya?" He scrutinized Hannibal, saw the desired reaction and laughed. "That's the deal then. The signed and witnessed papers 'n' my spoken testimony in 'change for protection from McKeever 'n' some o' the jewelry. There's someone wants to buy it 'n' I can use the money to get outta here after this is all blown over and I done my time for shootin' young Latreque."

Hannibal shook his head. "What makes you think we'll give you any of those theater props? What would prevent us from turning you and what you want in to the police ourselves?"

The ex-security guard's twisted smile made the Colonel's stomach queasy. "You won't because I know who you really are. Who's more wanted? You 'n' your men or me?"


	59. Chapter 59 Unwelcome House Guest

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 59 Unwelcome House Guest

Ever since he broke through his waking nightmare to find himself embracing Dani, Murdock had bobbed in and out of confused thoughts and fragmented dreams. He knew he was supposed to do something. They were on a mission and he had a part to play but what it was escaped him.

Another thing worried him. Dani wasn't pleased with him. She hadn't stop caring for him, bathing his face with a wet cloth, cupping his cheek in her hand and gently talking to him when he needed help driving away the VC or his Pa from his mind. But her manner toward him had changed, had become more melancholy and he couldn't understand why.

_Gotta make it up to her somehow. Musta did or said somethin' to my angel to make her mad at me. Hope she don' stay mad for long._

When his eyes opened for longer than a few seconds, he caught glimpses of B. A. moving around his Gramma's kitchen. That was strange, too. The burly Sergeant seemed to be preparing a meal . . . but B. A. rarely cooked.

_Gramma ain' gonna forgive B. A. if he makes a mess 'n' don' clean it up. _

The sound of Hannibal's voice pierced the cotton wool that clouded Murdock's semi-conscious state. His CO would expect him to be alert, ready to report, prepared to move out at a moment's notice. He pushed back the blankets cocooning him on the couch . . . _how did the couch get in the dining room? Gramma won't like that_ . . . and struggled to swing his feet to the floor.

Cyndy . . . _where did she come from, and where did Dani go? . . ._ rose in a hurry from the kitchen chair beside him and called out to the Sergeant.

"No you don't, fool." B. A. was amazingly quick for a man of his size. He placed his hands on both of Murdock's shoulders and pressed him back into the pillows.

"Gotta report." The muscular Sergeant was surprised at the amount of resistance the feverish man was exerting. "Lemme go!"

_B. A. knows 'bout protocol. Why's he tryin' so hard to stop me from doin' what I gotta do? _

"Hannibal. You don't talk to 'im, tell 'im to lay down, I won't be held accountable for what I hafta do to make 'im." The black man tossed a worried plea over his shoulder.

"_Get off!_" Murdock put his hands up against B. A.'s massive chest and pushed as hard as he could.

"At ease, Captain. We have a guest." The Colonel barked out a sharper than usual command, one that stopped both men and made B. A. pull away. Murdock shoved his hands against the couch cushions and tottered to his feet, disregarding the pain to fulfill his sense of duty. He raised his hand to salute and looked beyond Hannibal and Face to the doorway. His hand dropped to his side without following through and both hands became fists. Every remnant of fogginess left his mind as he recognized a familiar face from opening night.

"What's _he_ doin' here?" Murdock's voice was a combination of anger, apprehension and confusion.

_What's Hannibal thinkin'? This guy 'most killed me. Woulda killed Cyndy in a blink if I hadn't a drawn his 'ttention. . _

With a sneering nod to the pilot, Winton strolled past the two men and made himself comfortable in the armchair.

Cyndy skirted around him and sought Face's protection. The Lieutenant wrapped his arms around her waist and gave her a reassuring squeeze. "It'll be okay. He won't hurt you as long as we're watching."

"Nice ta see you, too, li'l lady. We should finish our dance sometime soon. Next time, I won't use the gun to persuade ya."

"Colonel?" Murdock's voice was unsteady as he stared at the ex-security guard and then at Hannibal. He was beginning to get dizzy.

_Got up too quick. Gotta stay ready jus' case he tries somethin'. _

"Like Smith said, I'm a guest. We got a deal." Winton smirked and glanced back at Cyndy. "What's fer supper, sweetie?"

Hannibal drew himself up to full height and clenched his teeth. "Our deal did not include harassing Miss Berquon. Your bed will be in the barn loft. B. A. can protect you during the night. He's been sleeping in the van out there. You'll take your meals out there, too. When we go to the theater you go with us and stay within sight of one of us at all times. Got it?"

"Anythin' you say. Jus' keep this boy's Pa off my tail, do your part o' the deal 'n' we'll all be happy in the end." Winton gestured at Murdock and grinned. "You don' look like yer feelin' too good, boy. Mebbe you'd better lay back down 'fore ya fall down."

The Captain eased himself into the kitchen chair beside the couch and glared at the man who had almost killed him. He said in a strained voice, "Colonel, I think you'd better call a meetin' 'n' let the rest o' us in on your _deal_."

_I gotta feelin' I'm not gonna like this. Hann'bal looks like he swallowed a whole bottle o' lemon juice. Sure hope he knows what he's doin'. _

"Ha! 'N' here I was thinkin' you were one o' Smith's flunkies. Jus' a flunky. Weren' that what ya called _me_, boy?" Winton laughed and glowered at the pilot before standing and sauntering toward the door. "Think I'll take a walk 'n' 'splore my new home. Ya'll have that meetin', talk it out. I'll be waitin' fer supper."

As he passed Cyndy, he caressed her cheek with his hand and chuckled again.

Murdock kept his hands balled into tight white-knuckled fists in his lap. When he heard the front door open and close, he turned his furious gaze on Hannibal. "We gotta talk," he forced out.

B. A. growled, "I agree wit' the crazy man, Colonel."

Hannibal and Face exchanged looks before the Colonel nodded with resignation reflected in his expression. "Fair enough."

He waited until B. A. helped Murdock to a seat at the kitchen table before inviting the rest of them to sit down. "Face, why don't you play that recording you made of my conversation with Winton? Let them hear it."

As he listened to the tape, Murdock sensed Hannibal analyzing his reactions to what was said. As Winton's voice described the last beating McKeever delivered twenty years before, the one that put the then seventeen-year-old in the hospital, he stole a look at Cyndy. She was shaking her head, her emotions over the memories of that time registering in her eyes.

_Never wanted Cyndy to know 'bout who did that. She woulda said somethin', put herself in danger, put Gramma 'n' Grampa in danger. Look at her. She's still tryin' to take all my hurt on herself. _

"Pa almost killed me that time. Heard Billy callin' me home jus' 'fore I woke up in the hospital. Cyndy here was readin' to me. _Peter Pan,_ if I 'member right." A lump formed in his throat and he cleared it before going on. "If she hadn' been there much as she was, I might've gone with Billy."

Her eyes were glistening with tears and he swallowed again, averting his gaze to the table in front of him.

Hannibal brought the conversation back to the present. "And now your father is after both you and Winton. He doesn't know Lahman is still alive as far as we know. If he does, Lahman may be in danger, too. It depends upon how determined your father is to erase every trace of testimony."

"But ya don' _need_ Winton to testify 'gainst my Pa, do ya? You got my say-so that there's a body in the back pasture. I saw my Pa diggin' a hole ta put it there." Murdock looked at each of the three men, his breathing short and labored. "Havin' Winton here's nothin' but trouble, like invitin' Decker to have a friendly sit-down meal with us."

"Winton's testimony is iron clad. He _witnessed _the murder. You _saw_ something that might or might not have been what you thought it was." Hannibal's harsh voice softened. "I believe you. We all do. But a jury will believe the person who saw the murder even more, especially if the remains can be found. You don't _have to _stay to corroborate Winton's statement. And the best way to ensure Winton can give his statement is to protect him until we've finished the mission and are ready to leave."

"So we're caught in a bind, huh, Colonel?" Murdock leaned back in the chair, wincing as he did. "We gotta keep the bastard safe 'sides givin' him the jewelry, or he turns ya in."

B. A. scowled. "Sure hope you got a plan ta get us outta this, Colonel."

"I'm working on it." Hannibal relaxed back in his chair and took out a cigar. Even if he couldn't smoke it in the farmhouse, he could think with it in his mouth. And he needed to give serious thought to what to do about both Winton and McKeever.


	60. Chapter 60 Room Service

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 60 Room Service

Forcing himself to sit at the kitchen table to have his meal of semi-soft and liquid food sapped much of Murdock's strength. Hannibal and the others would suspect how ill and hurting he was if he didn't join them.

He ate only half of what Cyndy prepared for him. Applesauce, banana slices, jello, chicken broth and mashed potatoes were beginning to be as monotonous as the rice rations in the POW camps. Necessary to stay alive but bland and unsatisfying.

He still didn't have an appetite and had to force himself to eat anything. Every time he noticed Cyndy's concerned gaze directed toward him, he put a small spoonful of food in his mouth.

_Anythin' to keep her from worryin' so much 'bout me. Sure wish the guys'd say more. It'd distract her from watchin' me. _

The men around the supper table were overly quiet. Whether Winton's presence on the farm caused it or they were focused on that night's performance and what had to be done, Murdock could not tell. None of them looked up to make eye contact. As soon as the meal was finished, Cyndy rose and put together a plate of food for their unwanted guest.

"We'll leave for the theater in about a half hour. Do you want us to help you back to the couch until then, Captain?" Hannibal's gaze penetrated Murdock, looking for any sign of weakness.

"Easier fer me ta get up from here than from over there." The injured man grinned and fought to hold back the nausea and coughing that threatened to come.

Cyndy headed toward the door with Winton's supper but Face hurried from his chair to intercept her. "Where do you think you're going with _that_?" He took the plate from her hands and turned to Hannibal. "She shouldn't be the one to provide room service for Winton. Colonel, you saw how he was with her."

"He's right. Cyndy shouldn' be anywhere 'roun' that slimy mudsucker. Not 'lone." Murdock's face was set in a dark scowl as he appealed to the older man.

Hannibal nodded. "I'm afraid I agree, Miss Berquon. One of us will be the one to take meals out to Winton. Not you."

B. A. stood and held his hands out for the plate. "I'll go. I need ta go check, make sure he ain't doin' nothin' with my ride or anythin' out there."

Hannibal and Face stepped out on the veranda to talk and Cyndy excused herself to go upstairs, leaving Murdock alone. He had held back the urge to cough long enough and he doubled over, holding a clean handkerchief to his mouth.

_Shoulda let 'em help me to the couch. Least the pillow'd muffle all this noise. _

The white cloth was stained with greenish yellow phlegm and profusely streaked with blood by the time the coughs stopped. His stomach lurched as he hunched over the table, the side of his face resting on its surface.

_Jus' take me home, Billy. Anythin's better than this slow death. _

With effort, he kept the meal he had just finished from coming back up.

_Nothin's stayin' down anymore. I'd sooner not eat but Hann'bal won' let that happen either. Don' know if I have 'nough in me ta finish this job. But I gotta. _

He moaned softly and closed his eyes.

_Lousy don' even begin to tell how I feel right now. _

Footsteps on the wooden decking and a grumbled response to one of the two men on the veranda alerted him that B. A. was coming back. He straightened in his chair and hoped the black man overlooked anything that would indicate his struggle of the past few minutes.

When the black man finally entered the kitchen, Murdock sensed Winton had tried his best to push B. A.'s buttons. The Sergeant trudged to the kitchen table and sat down heavily in a chair. Murdock winced as he heard the basketweave seat strain under his weight and the solid oak ladderback frame creak as he settled back.

"Careful there. That chair's 'bout seventy years older'n you are. Gramma wouldn' like it if ya broke it." Noting B. A.'s scowl, the pilot bit the inside of his lower lip to keep from saying more. Winton must have done a lot of button-pushing to make the Sergeant this mad.

"Your Gramma ain' here to know," the black man growled.

Murdock flinched at the statement but said nothing more. The other man shot an angry glance at him. He took in Murdock's pained expression. The bruising around his eye stood out against his overly pale skin tone. The stitched laceration beside his eye was not healing as well as it should. The gauze showed traces of blood.

_Man looks like he's gonna fall outta that chair, _B. A. thought to himself.

There was an uncomfortable silence of several seconds before B. A. shifted nervously in the seat and mumbled an apology. "Sorry, man. Didn' mean ta say that. Winton said some things made me want ta tear 'im 'part."

The pilot nodded, stared down at the worn table surface and thoughtfully ran a forefinger along a deep scratch on its surface. "Hard on all o' us, havin' 'im here." He looked up, his troubled brown eyes searching the black man's face. "Look, I know Faceman's gonna try to protect Cyndy from Winton." The muscles along his jaw twitched and he swallowed. "I'm not much good, shape I'm in right now. Wouldn' be able to haul 'im off 'er if he tried somethin'. Couldja watch out for 'er for me? Be Faceman's backup 'case Winton gets to 'er?"

"Goes wit'out sayin." B. A. maintained eye contact with Murdock for a few seconds. "You stay outta his way, too. You got that? He pushes it, you tell me an' I'll take care of 'im, deal or no deal."

Murdock nodded. "Hope it don' come to that. He's more dangerous 'n a wildcat with 'is tail in a knot."

"An' I'm more dangerous than two wildcats with their tails tied together," B. A. responded. "Don' you worry, man. I got you and Cyndy's backs."

The pilot stared down at his finger, still absently tracing the groove in the table's surface. "Jus' hope it don' come to that," he murmured.

The front door opened. "Well, gentlemen. It's just about time to go to the theater." Hannibal glanced from one man to the other, realizing he had interrupted something. "B. A., is Cyndy's El Camino ready to roll? I think we'd better have both the van and either the truck or Face's Corvette with us tonight. I plan on driving Winton myself and the rest of you taking the van. I will not have Winton in the same vehicle as Miss Berquon or you either, Captain."

"Sure, Hannibal. Got it done this afternoon. Expectin' trouble?" The Sergeant got to his feet and stood by Murdock's side.

"Just avoiding trouble, B. A. Just avoiding it."


	61. Chapter 61 McKeever Returns

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 61 McKeever Returns

With Winton waiting and grumbling in the passenger's seat of the El Camino, Hannibal stood beside the open window of the idling van giving last minute instructions to B. A.

Cigar clamped securely at the side of his mouth, he glanced back at the truck and then at the Sergeant. "If we get separated, I want you to continue on and get Murdock and Miss Berquon to the theater in time. Don't double back and try to find us. Both you and Face will have to watch for anything suspicious until I can get there."

Jiggling one knee up and down, Murdock sat in the Colonel's usual seat. His nervous movement abruptly stopped. "You must be _figurin'_ on trouble." He analyzed Hannibal's somber face before nodding thoughtfully and turning his gaze toward the farmhouse. "Guess Pa _could be_ 'most anywhere. Most likely place'd be watchin' the farm, 'specially if he knew Winton was out here, too. Good idea, splittin' us up. Won' know who to go after."

"I'm not positive he _is_ watching. I just have this feeling he's going to make an appearance when we least expect it." Hannibal ducked his head to view the pilot. He sensed there was more to Murdock's last comments than congratulating him on the wisdom of his plan.

With the Colonel's last sentence, Murdock startled and shifted his attention back to him. He scrutinized the older man's face before responding.

"Funny you should mention that, Hann'bal. Dreams I've had lately, feelin's that're makin' the hairs stan' up on the back o' my neck, I _know_ he's gonna show 'imself sometime soon." The pilot stared straight ahead but his attitude became more reflective. His focus was on something internal. "But I'm ready for 'im now. Times comin' he ain' gonna hurt me no more." The last sentence was more of a whisper to himself than to either Hannibal or B. A.

"Tol' ya, fool. He ain' gonna get the chance." Uncomfortable with how melancholy Murdock's tone had become, B. A. glanced nervously at the Colonel. Hannibal nodded to B. A. He had noticed the fatalistic sound to the injured man's voice as well.

"You're not going to face him alone, Captain. Until the mission is done and McKeever is behind bars, none of us will be alone anywhere, especially not you, Winton or Miss Berquon."

"That's right. 'Member? I said I got your back." Supported by what the Colonel said, the muscular Sergeant gripped the steering wheel tightly.

"We aren't going to let your father get to you. Never again," Face affirmed grimly from the back seat.

"Time to head out." Hannibal abruptly ended the conversation and strode back to the El Camino. Murdock had not responded. His thoughts were still distant.

B. A. looked in the rearview mirror at Cyndy and Face. The Lieutenant caught the black man's worried expression and leaned forward to put his hand on Murdock's shoulder. "You okay, buddy?"

Straddling the tall weeds between the ruts of the driveway, the two vehicles slowly moved out. The pilot stared out the side window as they turned south onto Grayburg Road. "Pa could be jus' 'bout anywhere out here. I know he's watchin', lookin' for an openin'. Billy tol' me so." His voice was little more than a low mutter to himself. He clasped and unclasped his hands in his lap and began jiggling his knee again.

He suddenly turned to Face. His eyes desperately sought his friend for reassurance. "You believe me, don'tcha? I ain' jus' _thinkin'_ I'm hearin' Billy, am I?" Face scrutinized the van floor, running his fingers along the carpet, in an effort to avoid Murdock's penetrating gaze. The pilot's tone became frantic. "He's gotta be real. I mean, I've heard 'im mosta my life, even in Nam. Sometimes I'd look down at a hot LZ 'n' hear Billy tell me it wasn' my time yet. Only way I knew sometimes no matter what I did, I'd get all o' us outta there safe 'n' sound."

Before Face could respond, the van surged forward, jolting all of them back in their seats. B. A. peered in his side mirror and pressed even harder on the accelerator. "Don't know 'bout voices, but I _do_ know we got trouble comin' up behind us an' fast."

A white Ford Bronco had emerged from an overgrown farm road partially hidden by a windrow of Southern red oak and black sumac trees. Both the van and the El Camino shot past farms and driveways with the truck close behind them.

The pilot stuck his head out of the open passenger's side window and squinted past the El Camino to the pursuing vehicle. He grimaced at B. A. as he settled back into the seat. "It's Pa."

As they sped along, Murdock closed his eyes and began to hum, tuning out everything around him. He wrapped his arms around his abdomen and shrank into the seat.

Within two minutes the van careened around a corner and turned onto 326 heading south. B. A. glanced back and gritted his teeth. "Don't look now, but Hannibal an' Winton ain' wit' us no more."

Face knelt between the two front seats and strained to see past Murdock's shoulder into the passenger's side mirror. "And neither is McKeever."

The pilot opened his eyes and clutched at B. A.'s arm. "Hann'bal can't take on my Pa by 'imself. We gotta go help 'im."

"Colonel knows what he's doin'. He tol' me what to do an' that's what I'm gonna do." The Sergeant shook off Murdock's hand and set his focus on the road ahead. The scowl on his face didn't fool the Lieutenant in the back seat. He was just as worried about Hannibal. Murdock shook his head in frustrated disagreement.

For the pilot's sake, Face tried to think of something reassuring. They all needed Murdock to be focused on his lines and performance at the theater. The Colonel would expect that of him.

"Hannibal's . . . resourceful. You know that. I have a feeling your father's met his match." Face flashed an uncertain smile at his friend. He gave Cyndy a concerned frown and grasped her hand in his.


	62. Chapter 62 Follow the Leader

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 62 Follow the Leader

"What're ya doin', Smith?" Winton gripped the El Camino's dashboard as Hannibal gunned the engine and made a sharp turn northbound on Texas 326.

"Diversionary tactic." The Colonel answered around the cigar in his mouth. He smiled and chuckled. His eyes took on an amused twinkle.

"Yer crazy, ya know that?" The ex-security guard looked back at the white truck following them and then at the driver. "He wants ta kill me 'n' you're takin' 'im on a tour o' the neighborhood?"

"And you can be the tour guide. Take the wheel." Hannibal reached and retrieved his gun from its holster. The other man's eyes widened. "Just a little precaution if he gets too close and starts trying to send us off the road."

"You _are_ nuts!" Winton shouted as he grabbed the steering wheel.

"Here, let me get over on that side." The Colonel slid a few inches across the bench seat, then when Winton hesitated, he snapped, "Change places."

Scowling, Winton held onto the wheel and half stood to let the other man past. As Hannibal's foot left the gas pedal, Winton's foot replaced it. The El Camino shimmied back and forth in its lane but held to the road. As both men settled back into their seats, the Colonel rolled down the window on his side. Sticking his head out of the window, he kept a close watch on the truck and its driver.

"What ya gonna do? Shoot 'im?"

"Never mind what I do. You know the back roads around here better than I do. Find one where you think you can lose him."

The sign for the Old Beaumont Road loomed ahead. Winton veered right and accelerated out of the turn. The white truck overshot the turn by three cars' length. Braking hard, McKeever threw his vehicle in reverse and resumed the chase down the old road.

As soon as Hannibal saw they had left houses and other outbuildings behind, he took aim at one of the Bronco's tires and fired a warning shot. The bullet hit the asphalt close to the tire. Whether it ricocheted up into the engine or imbedded in the pavement, he could not tell. McKeever slowed for a few seconds, then increased his speed when the Colonel fired no more shots. The pavement suddenly became dirt and Hannibal lost sight of the truck.

"Trouble is, Smith, McKeever knows these back roads well as me. 'N' this dirt leaves as good a trail to follow as tire tracks. Look at all that dust we're raisin'."

"Does the road turn back into pavement soon?"

"Not for a ways."

"Then I suggest you go faster."

Hannibal glanced behind them. Winton was laying down a thick cloud of dust. If McKeever had a gun, he would not be able to see to be accurate with his aim. That was the good news. On the other hand, the dust raised by their tires left no doubt as to where they had gone. Hannibal could not aim at McKeever's tires to stop him in his pursuit either. That was the bad news.

If Winton turned off anywhere, McKeever would know within a minute or less. Hannibal narrowed his eyes at the ex-security guard, wondering if it was his intention to be so obvious. A quick analysis showed that the other man had not purposely tried to make it easy for Murdock's father to follow.

Winton was perspiring heavily. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he looked as if the devil himself was chasing them.

When the El Camino left the dirt and hit pavement again, Winton sighed in relief. He jerked the wheel hard to the left before the dust screen settled behind them. The truck bumped over a fallen branch and squeezed through a gap in the treeline. A grassy farm field stretched out before them. Another sharp turn to the left got them out of sight of anyone following them on the Old Beaumont Road. Both men watched as the white Bronco sped past, oblivious to their hiding place.

"Why didn' ya shoot 'im when ya had the chance?" Winton spat, mopping his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

"I told you. You and your late boss may have done things that way but that's not the way we do it. We let the justice system try murderers like McKeever." The Colonel stared with cold eyes at the other man.

Winton snorted. "Pretty high 'n' mighty words comin' from a fugitive."

Hannibal glared at him, then directed his gaze out the passenger's side window. "Drive us to the theater. We have a play to watch."

By the time Winton parked the El Camino in the theater parking lot and the two men entered the building through the front door, the performance was well underway.

Shortly after they entered the alcove, B. A. spied them. His face instantly lost much of the tension Hannibal noticed on their arrival. The black man almost smiled as he approached the Colonel. He scowled at Winton and turned his back to him as he gave his report.

"Nothin' unusual happenin' so far. Gotta hand it to the fool, Colonel. Got his second wind soon as we were parked an' walked in under his own strength." B. A. shook his head thinking about it. When his eyes met Hannibal's, they showed both admiration and concern for the injured man. "Sure hope he makes it through tonight. He got guts, say that for 'im, but I don' know if that's 'nough."

"I'll go back as soon as I can and check on him. Keep your eyes open for McKeever. We ditched him on the way to Beaumont but that doesn't mean he won't try again when he realizes we're here at the theater." Hannibal clapped B. A. on the shoulder and ushered Winton through to the auditorium doors.

On opening night additional seats had to be set up in the back and along the sides of the former church sanctuary. Although the theater was not as well-attended this second night, there were enough people to almost fill every one of the regular seats in the balcony and on the floor.

Four seats were reserved for Hannibal and his men in the front row and it was there the Colonel and Winton found their places and sat. The ex-security guard sneered as Evan Dunlow, the Prince of Wales, came on stage with Pete Stollmeier as Falstaff to begin the second scene of the first act. The backdrop was a public waiting room at Westminster Castle.

"Hope that boy's a better actor'n a fighter," Winton whispered and chuckled softly.

Hannibal ignored the reference to what the ex-security guard had done to Dunlow to ensure Hollis was on stage during the full dress rehearsal. The Captain trying to defend himself against Hollis with the antique sword and all the events that followed were things the Colonel did not want to remember.

"I have to go see how Murdock's doing. You stay put." He cast a cool smile at Winton. "And try to enjoy the show."


	63. Chapter 63 Like a Son

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 63 Like a Son

Hannibal left the theater through the front door. Peering up and down the street for sign of the white Bronco, he satisfied himself that McKeever was nowhere near . . . yet. He could not rule out Murdock's father showing up sometime later, especially when McKeever finally determined the El Camino had somehow slipped away from his pursuit.

Stepping in the rear theater entrance, he quietly greeted several of the cast members he knew who were waiting for their cues to go on stage.

In the same armchair Hannibal sat in earlier when he met with Winton, Murdock rested. His feverish eyes listlessly watched the cast and crew work around him. Cyndy spoke to him, trying to get him to make eye contact, but he shook his head. Hannibal had seldom seen the younger man this morose.

As soon as his gaze fell on the Colonel, he struggled to his feet and lurched toward him.

"Hann'bal." Murdock awkwardly hugged the Colonel before realizing what he was doing. When he did, he stepped back and gave Hannibal a weak but radiant lopsided grin. "Didn' know if we'd ever see ya 'gain."

Cyndy and Face trailed after him, equally happy to see the older man. They retreated to a far back corner so they could not be heard onstage. The young lady gave Hannibal a hug and a relieved kiss on his cheek while the Lieutenant put his hand on his shoulder and flashed him a brilliant smile.

"Glad you could make it, Colonel. Murdock's been going crazy worrying about whether his father would catch up to you." Face put his arm around Cyndy's waist as she stepped back. "I figured you'd slip away somehow."

"Yeah, well. I kinda know what Pa can do if he gets 'nough booze in 'im. It ain' pretty," the pilot snapped back. He wobbled on his feet and muttered, "I gotta go sit back down."

As Murdock collapsed into the armchair and laid his head back, closing his eyes and taking short shallow breaths through his mouth, Hannibal turned questioning eyes on Face and Cyndy. "What do you think?" He gestured with his head toward the armchair.

Cyndy averted her eyes, moving in closer under the Lieutenant's arm. She seemed to be holding back a flood of emotions.

Face shrugged and tightened his hold on the young woman. "He says he's fine but I guess we all know better than that by now. He's definitely more irritable. You'd think some of B. A. rubbed off on him the way he's behaving."

Cyndy interrupted, her eyes flashing with concern and anger. Her voice was low but impassioned. "What do you expect as an answer, Hannibal? He's very sick. He's hanging in there, doing this, because of some sense of duty that won't make him quit unless he's dead."

"That's enough, Angel." Face tried to stop her flow of words. He put both hands on her shoulders and made her look at him. She silenced him with one furious glare and turned back to the Colonel.

"You tell me, Hannibal. Is he going to keep going until he dies? Is that what you expect?" He stared back at her, letting her words come, not showing any emotion except for a small twitch in his jaw. "And all because in some twisted way, your approval means more to him than his own life. You're like the father he never had." She took in a deep breath. "I sat with him twenty years ago in that hospital, not knowing if he was ever going to wake up again. I don't know if I can do it again."

Several seconds passed before any of the three said a word. When Hannibal spoke, his voice was quiet but firm. "You're not the only one who ever sat with him wondering if he was going to make it through. If being a father means you clean out infected wounds from beatings so severe you can see muscle, fat and bone, then maybe I am one. If it means you save portions of your own worm-infested rice ration because you _know_ when he's returned from an interrogation he'll need the nourishment, then, yes, maybe I _am_ the father he never had."

The Colonel saw Face flinch and knew he was remembering the POW camps. Murdock made himself a target rather than let the young Lieutenant be taken more often. It was a debt Face knew he could never repay except in devoted friendship.

Hannibal bore in his own body his share of brutal interrogations but Murdock seemed to have been a favorite of the interrogators. Maybe it was because he seldom let them see his pain. Maybe it was because the VC found breaking his will and his spirit an intriguing challenge. There were times when the Colonel wondered if he would be returned to them mentally or physically sound enough to last through the night.

He looked down at the floor, the flood of memories so sharp and painful he almost felt they could obliterate the present and sweep him back to the past. Glancing at Face, he saw the same intense emotions passing through him. Cyndy paled with the severity of Hannibal's words.

She took two hesitant steps back and stood with her arms wrapped around herself, not daring to look at either of them. When she finally spoke, she forced the words over a lump in her throat. "I shouldn't have said what I did. To either of you. I'm sorry." Her attention went to the Captain as he stumbled to his feet. The backdrop was being lowered for the third scene of the first act and his first appearance on stage that night. "You all need my support and help, not my criticism."

Face swallowed and took four steps toward her. He enveloped her in a tight embrace and closed his own eyes. "Just trust us to do the right thing."

Hannibal moved toward them, reached to put his hand on each of their shoulders and then thought better of it. "He's stubborn. We're all doing what we can but it's up to him to tell us when he can't continue. To ground him from a mission would kill him quicker than if Winton's bullet had hit its target."

Face glanced at the Colonel and shook his head in warning. He continued to gently rock the young lady in his arms back and forth. With a whisper in her ear and his arm around her waist, he urged her to walk with him to the wing where Murdock waited to go on. Without another word Hannibal left the theater through the back door.

He considered his last words to Cyndy. "'To ground him from a mission would kill him quicker than if Winton's bullet had hit its target.'" He knew it was a fact but what he had observed of Murdock's condition told him he might have to do just that fairly soon.

And what the young lady said: "'And all because in some twisted way, your approval means more to him than his own life.'" He hoped that wasn't true. It made him responsible for Murdock's life in a much different way than a leader watching out for one of his men. It made him more like a father watching out for a son.

Hannibal wasn't sure what he thought about that. Especially if the son was as stubborn and duty-bound as Murdock. For some strange reason he didn't know, he felt a sudden swell of pride. And it seemed right.


	64. Chapter 64 Duty and Commitment

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 64 Duty and Commitment

Hannibal watched Murdock pace the stage as he delivered his lines for the second scene of the fifth act. His acting throughout the night's performance was as sound and riveting as it had been the night before. The Colonel remembered what Cyndy said backstage: "'He's hanging in there, doing this, because of some sense of duty that won't let him quit unless he's dead.'"

Hannibal gripped the armrest on the theater seat.

_Unless he's dead. _

He had heard about and personally witnessed Murdock's commitment to duty first hand in Nam. He accomplished death-defying dust-offs in hot LZs with postage stamp clearings that most other Huey pilots wouldn't attempt. Several times the pilot flew more than his share of round trips to extract wounded soldiers in the field after major engagements with the enemy. And he did it all with that unending zaniness and optimism that released pressure in the most difficult situations, not just for him but for everyone with him as well.

_Well, most everyone. But maybe B. A. blows off steam by threatening to do Murdock bodily harm. He would never actually do it. _

So was his strength coming from the determination to fulfill his duty?

Or was his conviction to finish this mission because of that other thing she said, the desire to have Hannibal's approval?

More times than he could remember, he sensed Murdock's presence behind him off to one side, watching how Hannibal handled a client or formulated a plan. He didn't have to say a word for the Colonel to know he was there. Until now, Hannibal thought very little about it. It was strange, though. Neither B. A. or Face followed the Colonel as closely as Murdock did.

Hannibal presumed it was because of their military rank but rank never seemed to be very important to Captain H. M. Murdock in the past.

_What was it he said to Face once when he thought I wasn't listening? Rank is just something that gets you the gold key to the private restroom. _

"Wanna place a bet yer _boy_ Murdock don' las' through the sword fight? A hundred bucks says he don'." Winton's rank breath hissed in the Colonel's ear and interrupted his thoughts.

Hannibal gave the ex-security guard a steely stare. "I don't bet on my _men_." He clenched his teeth and focused on the stage as two young messengers spoke to Murdock. "He'll get through this."

Winton snorted and turned his attention back to the injured man.

The pilot had to be onstage for one more scene. Hannibal would know after the sword fight how much this performance took out of Murdock. He would make decisions about Sunday night's production based on what he observed when the younger man was not looking. It was the only way to discover the truth of his condition.

The Colonel was almost certain Murdock would somehow muster the last reserves of whatever was keeping him going to finish the performance tonight. And if he didn't, Hannibal would know what to do about the next night's production.

If Hannibal had taken him up on it, Deke Winton would have lost his bet. Despite a few wobbly moves during his sword fight with Evan Dunlow, the Captain continued to be strong through the remainder of his performance.

When it was time for the curtain calls, he seemed as pleased with what he had done as he had the night before. His brown eyes twinkled as they made contact with Hannibal in the front row. He had a wide grin as he escorted Cyndy to the middle of the stage for their bows. The grin was contagious. The Colonel found himself applauding harder and smiling back. That feeling of pride swelled up within him again but this time it didn't seem as foreign as it had before.

Hannibal nudged Winton and motioned with his head to the stage door.

Even as Hannibal opened the door to the back stage area, he could hear Murdock coughing. As the two men made their way through the back stage area, Winton stayed close to the Colonel. "Bet we're gonna fin' yer boy on the floor back here. Boy put up a good front but he don' have what it takes. He's his daddy's son alright."

With one quick movement, Hannibal clutched a large hank of the ex-security guard's shirt and brought his face within two inches of his own. His eyes bored into Winton's as he growled, "The only thing I need to do is protect you from McKeever. The deal says nothing about having to put up with what you say."

Winton flinched and then regained his composure. "Whatcha gonna do 'bout it?"

Hannibal tightened his grip on the man's shirt as a wave of anger pulsed through him. Then he released the man and turned to walk away.

"Thought so," Winton sneered. He didn't have time to prepare for the blow to his stomach that left him doubled over.

Without another word, the Colonel clamped his hand around the man's upper arm and half-dragged him toward the chair where Murdock, Cyndy and Face waited.

Raising his eyebrows in surprise, Murdock glanced at a grimacing Winton, still holding his belly, and then at Hannibal. He started to say something and thought better of it. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and then faded.

"Doctor Freedman said if I wanna come with him tonight, he'll get me in ta see Hollis. Thought maybe I'd take 'im up on the offer, Colonel." The pilot leaned his head back against the armchair to look at Hannibal through half-closed eyes.

"That would mean the doctor would be driving you back out to the farm. This late at night with your father out there somewhere . . . " Hannibal frowned and crossed his arms. He would rather have been with Murdock when he went to see Hollis.

"Please, Hannibal." The two words were spoken with a quiet but intense tone.

"You sure you're feeling well enough to do this, Captain?"

Murdock straightened in the chair, shuddering and squeezing his eyes shut as he did. "I gotta see 'im." When he opened his eyes, they had taken on an intense burning look that said he wasn't going to let anything stop him.

Face glanced at Hannibal and shook his head. "If the doctor is right there with him . . . "

Cyndy started to say something but was silenced by one look from Murdock.

Hannibal gave the pilot one more scrutinizing scan before nodding. "But Face goes with you."

Murdock drew in a breath to protest but it came out in a series of barely muffled coughs. When he finished, he nodded weakly in agreement with the Colonel's requisite.

Face himself looked as if Hannibal had just made him cancel a dinner date with a beautiful woman. The Lieutenant gave Cyndy an apologetic smile and clasped her hand in his. "I won't be long," he murmured. "At least, I hope I won't be."

"Just keep your eyes open for that white truck your father drives. I can't be certain he isn't watching the theater. We'll see you back out at the farm." The Colonel motioned to Winton to head toward the door, then hesitated.

He patted Murdock on the shoulder. "You did one helluva good job up on stage tonight, Captain. Maybe even better than last night."

The pleased grin that spread across the younger man's face satisfied Hannibal and he turned to leave.

"Thanks, Colonel. Glad ya liked it."

Hannibal smiled all the way out to the parking lot.


	65. Chapter 65 Visiting Hour

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 65 Visiting Hour

As the doctor drove Face and Murdock to the Beaumont hospital, the Lieutenant kept a secretive watch over his friend. The Captain leaned back and fell asleep within minutes on the rear bench seat of the red sedan. With the pancake makeup removed, the pilot's skin color was only a shade or two away from the color of the gauze over his laceration. Besides two feverish spots of pink on his cheekbones, the light purple and green bruising was about the only color in the man's face. His breaths came in wheezing short gasps.

The doctor parked as close to the front door as he could manage.

"We're here, buddy." Face twisted around in the seat and reached over the top to give Murdock's shoulder a shake.

"Hãy để tôi một mình. (Leave me alone)," he mumbled, swatting weakly at the hand.

"Murdock, if you want to see Hollis Latreque, you need to wake up now." When the Captain responded by turning his face away with a small whimper and a grimace, Face glanced at the impatient doctor. "I'm trying."

The Lieutenant got out of the car and opened the rear passenger door closest to Murdock. "Come on, buddy. Time to wake up." He shook the Captain's shoulder a bit harder and dodged the fist that came his way in protest. Face straightened and scratched his head, wondering what to do next.

"I told you the man needs to be in a hospital," the doctor said from behind him.

"No . . . " The pilot squeezed his eyes shut and forced them open. He stared at the two men as if trying to figure out who they were.

"Are you back with us, Murdock? We're in Beaumont, Texas. Remember? You've been playing the part of Hotspur." Face anxiously scanned his friend's expression, willing him to return from whatever place his dream had taken him.

Murdock frowned. Doctor Freedman and Face could almost see recognition and memory returning to the pilot.

"Face?" His voice came out in a whisper. "I musta fallen 'sleep. We at the hospital?"

"Yes. Here, let me help you up out of the car." Murdock slowly positioned his feet on the pavement and Face ducked down to give him his shoulder to use as he stood.

"Are you able to make it on your own or do you need help?" The Lieutenant's arm was around his friend's waist and his hand helped keep Murdock's arm around his shoulders. For a few seconds, the pilot swayed unsteadily.

"I think I can get there under my own steam now, Faceman," he mumbled as he focused on the entrance to the hospital. "This's somethin' I gotta do _t'night_." He took one or two wobbly steps before gaining his balance again.

Doctor Freedman preceded the two men through the front doors of the hospital. When he was certain there was no one in sight who would ask unnecessary questions, he motioned for them to follow him.

Room 121 was near an exit and far enough away from the nurses' desk to prevent any conversation from being overheard. Both of the men breathed a sigh of relief when they observed that.

"I made sure to get young Mister Latreque set up in a room which would give you a quick means of escape if you needed it." Doctor Freedman lightly knocked on the door before entering. He gestured for the other two to wait outside the door.

Hollis Latreque was watching cartoons on the television set mounted on the wall. Leaning against the wall for support, Murdock heard the trademark laugh of Woody Woodpecker and smiled to himself.

"You have visitors, Mister Latreque." A pause, then, "No. It isn't the police again. Someone else."

The doctor nodded to the two men. Murdock entered first, his eyes on the man in the hospital bed. He removed his cap and stood, twisting it in his hands, just inside the doorway.

"Hollis." He nodded a greeting. The young man stared at him, no emotion showing on his face.

"Why don't you move further into the room and let your friend come in?" the doctor invited.

Murdock complied by taking three more steps toward the foot of the bed. Face glanced at Hollis, his face beginning to crumple with anger, and then at his friend. He sensed this was not going to be a good visit.

"I wanted to thank you for stoppin' that bullet. Not for you, I'd be dead. Don' know why ya did it, but thanks." The pilot said the words as if they had been rehearsed over and over until he could get them right.

"Your Pa killed my Pa." Partially rising from the bed, Hollis spat the words at Murdock.

"I know. I'm sorry." He spoke softly, looking down at the floor. Replacing his cap on his head, he shoved his hands into his pants pockets.

"That don' take care o' it. That don' come anywhere _near_ ta takin' care o' it!" Hollis sank back into the pillows and glared at his visitor.

"My Pa's gonna do time for that. Trus' me. He's gonna do a lotta time." Murdock glanced up at Hollis to see if his words made an impact.

"Get outta my room," the young man muttered, his breaths starting to come in short heaving gasps. "_Get outta my room!_" he repeated with more force.

Murdock paused, his sorrowful eyes still on his classmate's grief-distorted face. "There _will_ be justice for what my Pa did. That's a promise, Hollis." He turned and strode out of the room, the doctor and Face following. As he left, the manic laughter of Woody Woodpecker on the television followed him.

Halfway down the hall, the pilot stopped and leaned with his back to the wall. Face stood in front of him, waiting for whatever Murdock needed to say.

The Captain gripped both of Face's upper arms. Making sure he had his friend's full attention, Murdock spoke with a strained tone. "Make sure my Pa never sees the light o' day for what he's done. 'Kay?" He waited for the answer and, seeing a small nod, released his friend.

Noticing Doctor Freedman a few feet away waiting for their private conversation to end, Murdock smiled and said, "Why don'tcha go wait by the doors for me? Got a few things I wanna clear up with the doc."

Face frowned. "Like what sort of things?"

A shadow of something Face could not understand passed across Murdock's expression. "Oh, jus' things . . . 'bout the play."

Glancing back once as he walked toward the door, the Lieutenant noticed the doctor showing his friend a paper. Murdock nodded slowly, a grim look on his face. He said something to Doctor Freedman and, when the doctor shook his head in disagreement, jabbed his finger in the man's chest with each word he spoke.

When the two finally joined Face at the door neither looked pleased.

"Let's go home, Faceman," Murdock muttered as he swung the door open and left the building.


	66. Chapter 66 Curtain Call?

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 66 Curtain Call?

By suppertime Hannibal wondered if Doctor Freedman was ever going to report the results of the Gram stain or the lab culture from Murdock's sputum sample. His patience was stretched almost to its limit.

_Lab tests shouldn't take this long to come back, even if the tests have to be done with a cloak of secrecy._

As Cyndy and Face prepared the meal, he walked over to the couch and, lost in his thoughts, gazed down at the pilot. As Hannibal watched, Murdock moaned in his sleep and whispered his dead brother's name.

_Something he's been doing a lot of in the past twenty-four hours. He's been sleeping all night and most of the day. Cyndy couldn't even get him to eat this morning. _

The Colonel had seen plenty of men die in Korea and in Viet Nam. The slow deaths always seemed to be like this. Even as he remembered the past, he forced his mind to think of the present. The future was still too uncertain. But Murdock was still alive. He would hold onto that fact and make sure it remained a reality.

_I will not let him die. Not on my watch. Not under my command. _

Even so, Hannibal hesitated before touching the younger man on the shoulder to wake him.

Murdock stared at the Colonel with half-open eyes, pulled the blanket up to his chin and gingerly turned onto his side.

"It's almost suppertime and then we're going to the theater. If you're going with us to perform, you need to wake up now. If you're not up to it, I can leave Face here with you." Hannibal frowned as the Captain shut his eyes to go back to sleep.

Murdock's response was a mumbled raspy "Don' need a babysitter. Could use 'nother blanket." The pilot curled up tighter into a ball as he coughed several times and shivered. The older man's stomach lurched as he realized what the actions and words meant.

_He's reached the limit of his strength. That does it. He's not going onstage tonight. _

The Colonel removed his glove and pressed his hand to the younger man's forehead. Cursing under his breath, Hannibal wondered if the other two men or Cyndy had noticed even more difficulty in getting or keeping Murdock awake.

_Damn! Temperature must have shot way up during the day. Doctor Freedman was right. He needed to be in the hospital. _

Hannibal had seen this before in the POW prison camps and hadn't remembered until now. A man beaten severely by the VC would seem fine and on the mend. They would wrap his broken ribs as best as they could with the rags they had on hand. Within a few days, flu-like symptoms would sometimes appear. Back then, they didn't know what it was. Coping with disease was a part of normal life in the camps.

_If the doctor isn't going to tell us anything, I'll have to go with what I do know. _

The Colonel took one of Murdock's hands and then the other, looking for bluish coloration to the fingertips which would indicate a partially collapsed lung. He breathed easier when he saw pale pink skin.

The pilot always had long slender fingers but Hannibal was startled to notice how skeletal they had become in the last week. He gently peeled the blankets back to Murdock's waist to check the bruising around his ribs.

_He hasn't been this thin since the POW camps. I can see every rib. It was happening before my eyes. Why didn't I notice it? Did the mission become that much more important? _

Hannibal carefully tucked the blankets back around the sleeping man and stood up, self-condemnation consuming his thoughts.

"Is something wrong, Colonel?" Face was at his elbow.

"I'm afraid we're going to have to leave you here with Murdock tonight. B. A. and Winton are staying, too. If there's any trouble or a dramatic change in his condition, you call the theater. I'll drive Miss Berquon in. When I come back, I'll have Doctor Freedman with me. He'll decide if we can somehow continue to keep him here." The Colonel stared down at the pilot.

Face absently ran a hand over his hair and frowned. "Then who's going to play the role of Hotspur?" His eyes widened and he choked back a snort of disbelief when he met Hannibal's cool unblinking gaze. "You? The biggest role you've done is the Aquamaniac."

The Colonel looked annoyed when he muttered, "Yeah, B. A. already reminded me of that. But I know all his lines and the movements around the stage."

"And Hotspur was supposed to be a younger man than King Henry IV and you and Doctor Freedman look about the same age." Face raised his eyebrows as he pointed out the obvious fact.

"Makeup can do wonders, Lieutenant," Hannibal snapped. "Take a good, careful look at Murdock when you're watching him tonight. While you aren't distracted by other things." He shot a quick glance over at Cyndy as she set the table. He knew he had said too much by the angry glare he received from the younger man. "After you look at him really good, then tell me I'm making the wrong decision. Now if supper's ready, Miss Berquon and I have to eat and go to the theater."

After B. A., Face, Hannibal and Cyndy spent a silent half hour at the dinner table, the Colonel and Cyndy left for the theater in the El Camino. B. A. glanced with a puzzled frown from Face to the sleeping pilot before taking Winton's supper out to him.

For an hour the Lieutenant cleaned up the kitchen, occasionally giving his unconscious friend a seething glare. When he could find no more to occupy himself, Face slouched over to the kitchen chair near Murdock's head and sat with his arms crossed. "Well, I hope you're happy. Cyndy's at the theater and I get to stay here and babysit you." He glanced at his friend to see if he was awake. A trace of a smile flickered across the pilot's face in response to a dream.

_Well, at least it's a good dream for once and not a nightmare. _

The lingering faint smile almost seemed to mock the Lieutenant. "Hannibal's going to play Hotspur tonight, you know. He thinks he can do it. How or why, I can't begin to imagine." Face looked over at the coffee pot on the cook stove and stood up. "Guess I'll get myself some coffee. It's going to be a long night."

_At least Cyndy made me a fresh pot before she left. I could live a lifetime of mornings waking up to a woman like that. _

The aroma of the hot liquid was so enticing that Face lifted the cup to his lips en route to the chair . . . and nearly spilled the entire cup on the floor when he saw his friend's brown eyes watching him. As he hurried to put the cup on the table and grab a dish rag to take care of the mess, he realized Murdock's eyes were not tracking his movements around the kitchen. He didn't seem to be even blinking.

_Is he . . . ?_

Dropping the dish rag on the floor, he knelt beside the couch and grasped the pilot's hand with growing panic. "Are you still with me, buddy?"

It took a few seconds but when the lids blinked once, Face sighed in relief and released his friend's hand. "Don't _do_ that to me."

He readjusted the blankets and refilled his cup. Sitting back down in the chair, he noticed his hands were trembling. Knowing he would only spill it again, he placed the cup on the small table at the head of the couch.

"So . . . " Face glanced at Murdock's staring eyes. " . . . are you awake or not? Can you talk to me?"

For a minute he thought he hadn't gotten through to the pilot. Then the man's lips moved in a very soft whisper.

The conman frowned and leaned forward, his ear a couple of inches away from his friend's mouth. "Say it again, Murdock. I'm listening."

"Trang chủ? (Home?)"

_Damn, I wish I'd learned Vietnamese now. But I never wanted to learn more than would get me by in a brothel or a bar. Didn't expect to have to use it ever again when I got home. _

"I don't understand. Say it in English."

Murdock grimaced with pain and he whispered again. "Goin' . . . home."

"You _are_ home. Sour Lake, Texas. Grayburg Road. Your Gramma and Grampa's farm." Face tried to flash a smile at him but he knew in his gut what home his friend was talking about.

Another whisper. "You . . . love . . . Cyndy . . . 'kay?" With those words he took several short wheezing breaths.

"You bet. I'm going to marry her someday and you're going to be my best man." The conman cupped Murdock's cheek in his hand and looked directly into his eyes as he said the words. "What do you say to that?"

Murdock tried to focus on the Lieutenant's face but gave up and closed his eyes instead. "Tell Dani . . . g'bye."

"No!" Panicked, Face gripped his friend's shoulders and shook him. "If you want to say goodbye to her, you're going to stay alive and do it yourself."

When he got no more response than a quiet sigh, the Lieutenant bolted out the door to call Hannibal at the theater.


	67. Chapter 67 Farewell Snapshots

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 67 Farewell Snapshots

His brief but terrifying nightmares were sandwiched among peaceful periods of weightlessness. When he wasn't flying a chopper into a hellhole of a battle or being beaten by his Pa, he drifted on air currents and looked down on his grandparents' farm and the surrounding countryside.

His body was his aircraft for both soul and spirit. The times when he floated like this were the closest things to Heaven he could imagine.

There were occasional pockets of turbulence. When his mind brought him back to his short-breathed painful reality, he realized the shaking he experienced was one of his team mates or Cyndy trying to rouse him. Usually it was to give him some pills and water or to attempt to feed him.

_Don' they understan'? Where I am, there's no need to refuel. There's no pain. _

Billy was his peter pilot on this flight but someone with a lot more authority was determining their final destination. He felt certain the navigator plotted a course for home.

_Home. It'll be good to be home. _

He had no commitments tethering him to the Earth. He smiled across at Billy, no longer just a voice but a foggy image becoming clearer as they floated for longer periods of time.

_Team'll finish the job 'n' 'scape like they always do. Ain' that right? All's well that ends well._

His brother smiled at him, the smile so much like his own and appearing from the amorphous shape beside him like a Cheshire cat's grin.

_'N' they don' need my statement anymore. Winton's word's better'n mine. He saw my Pa kill your Pa, Billy. No need for me to stick 'round. _

A pair of sad brown eyes contemplated what he said and agreed.

Muffled sounds and the smells of bacon frying in a pan wafted through the atmosphere. His stomach churned with nausea at the thought of trying to eat anything. He moaned his discomfort aloud.

_Billy, help me. They gotta eat but why don' they leave me 'lone? But they'll try 'n' make me eat. Hann'bal's orders. Grampa always said ya can lead a horse to water but ya can't make 'im drink. _

His right shoulder was being jostled.

_More air turbulence. Buckle in, Billy, 'n' hol' on! _

This time it was Hannibal. Murdock's eyes wouldn't open very far and all he picked out was a fuzzy outline but he smelled the aroma of the cigar smoke on the clothing and knew.

He tried to listen. The distance between them was so vast, he could pick out just a few words here and there.

" . . . almost suppertime . . . theater . . . perform . . . wake up . . . leave Face . . . "

He closed his eyes, mumbled an answer, asked for an extra blanket. The air was a bit nippy.

_But Face don' need to stay with me. I got all the company I need on this flight. _

A cool hand touched his forehead and from the vague smell of leather and smoke it must have been Hannibal. Both of his hands were being examined and then gently laid back down on either side of him. Instead of putting an additional blanket on him, the Colonel uncovered his rib cage, baring his abdomen to the chilled air. He was too weak to do anything but shiver and let goose bumps rise on his exposed skin.

Then he was carefully bundled up again under the blankets. He sensed the Colonel's presence even though he hadn't opened his eyes throughout the examination. Face had joined him at the bedside. That expensive cologne his friend always wore mingled with Hannibal's familiar cigar smoke smell.

_Talkin' 'bout me like I can't hear anythin' they say. _

He couldn't hear _everything _but he heard enough to know that one of the last obstacles had been cleared for him to go home.

_Don' know what Faceman's sayin'. Hanniball'l make a good Hotspur. He coulda done it all 'long if he wasn't 'fraid of Decker seein' his picture in the papers. Papers 'ready took photos o' openin' night. Shouldn' be a problem anymore. _

There were only three more performances and sealing the deal with Winton and the three men would leave for California again, hopefully without anybody chasing them.

He wished he could have completed the mission for Hannibal and the team. It was a permanent stain on his record, one he didn't _want_ to leave as a legacy. That tore at his heart, that this uncompleted job would be the last thing they had to remember him by.

_Ain' there any more time for me to make up for this, Billy? _

Hannibal's tone became hard and chilled. Murdock hoped it wasn't because of him and groaned internally when he heard "'After you look at him really good, then tell me I'm making the wrong decision.'" He wanted so much to tell the two men, his friends, that everything would be alright soon.

_Hann'bal's mad at Face. Shouldn' be. Faceman's had other things on his min'. _

That part about Doctor Freedman worried him. The doctor knew his wishes because he argued with him when they visited Hollis. The doctor was supposed to respect and comply with those wishes. He knew his rights to privacy. After all this time at the VA hospital, he should.

_Hann'bal can be pretty persuasive. Doctor'll spill 'bout those lab tests 'n' then it'll be all over for us, Billy. Can't see no way to stay outta the hospital or protect myself or anyone from Pa or Decker 'n' his MPs if Hann'bal thinks I need to go in to get well. _

He remembered the POW camps and the men who died from the symptoms he was displaying. Memories of his mother in the hospital, coughing up yellow, blood-streaked sputum, hot and feverish, dying from pneumonia, came unbidden to his mind. Billy reached over and took his hand as he stifled the sounds of his grief, knowing his friends wouldn't understand.

_But you understan', don'tcha, Billy? _

Everyone was too quiet around the supper table. Murdock wished they would say something to lighten the mood. It would make things easier.

He thought about the people he loved the most. Searching through his memory, he selected treasured mental snapshots of the last meaningful time he had with each of them.

For Hannibal, it was the nod and salute he gave from his front row seat and the words "'I was never so proud of you, Murdock'" said on opening night.

For B. A., it was the last time they were alone together at the kitchen table, when the muscular Sergeant promised to watch out for Cyndy when Face couldn't. He sounded more like a big brother when he said, "'You stay outta Winton's way, too. You got that? He pushes it, you tell me an' I'll take care of 'im, deal or no deal.'"

And Momma B. For her, it was the way she was always telling him he was like another son to her. That and her insistence he call her Momma.

For Cyndy, it was her quiet and loving ministrations to his needs in the last few days and the last kiss she gave him in the theater parking lot after rehearsal four nights ago.

He had just begun to make good memories with Dani so it was difficult to choose only one. Their last slow dance in the darkened rec room of the VA hospital, their last kiss, the way she smiled at him when he gave her the Astaire and Rogers album as a Christmas gift. He wanted to embrace all of those snapshots and take them with him.

Murdock drifted back from his memories to hear the front door close. From the noises in the kitchen, he could tell the only one left with him was Face and he sounded upset.

He glanced at Billy and shrugged his shoulders. "I gotta make it right with my best buddy 'fore I can go." His brother nodded slowly and smiled.

The kitchen chair creaked as Face sat next to him. His first words sounded resentful and sulky.

_Faceman, this ain' the way I wanna 'member you._

He tried to smile. It almost always brought a return smile from his friend. But this time Face responded with harsh words, reminding Murdock that Hannibal was completing his job, that he had failed the Colonel and the team.

As the Lieutenant rose to get a cup of coffee, the smile faded from Murdock's face.

_I don' know if I have 'nough in me to get your 'ttention. _

He forced his eyes to open but everything in front of him was too blurry. Face sounded scared when he came over to check on him.

_I don' wanna scare ya. I wanna talk to ya. Make everythin' right 'tween us. _

With effort, he blinked. His eyes burned. He would have liked to leave them closed.

_But if I do, Face'll think I'm sleepin'. _

"'Can you talk to me?'" Face asked.

Everything in him wanted to make his voice heard but all that would come out was a whisper.

_Hope it's 'nough._

He said it in Vietnamese without thinking, then realized his mistake when Face asked for him to repeat it in English.

_Too much effort to say anythin' now. Better think through my words, make every one of 'em count. _

To everything Murdock said Face had an answer but it wasn't the answer he was looking for.

_Faceman's in denial. Fancy medical term for tryin' not to face the ugly facts when they're lookin' ya in the eyes. _

He needed to make sure Cyndy would be cared for and Face's response was about the future. Before he got injured, before this illness, the Lieutenant's request to have him stand beside him as best man at his wedding would have brought an amused comment, maybe a smile, and then a promise to do it. But now . . .

_A future? Dani . . . Someone needs to tell Dani, to be there 'n' help her through it. _

He whispered the words but again Face was not listening. Closing his eyes, he sighed, thinking about what he could say to help his friend understand. Before he could formulate the words, the Lieutenant ran from the house.

_He's goin' to call Hann'bal, Billy. If we don' arrive at that big terminal in th' sky soon, we might need to have 'nother plan. _

He listened for a few minutes and began to reserve his remaining strength.


	68. Chapter 68 Crisis Point

Death Waits In the Wings

AN: Warning: contains mention of a suicide attempt.

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 68 Crisis Point

As soon as the last curtain call was over, Hannibal excused himself and Cyndy and sped back to the farm as fast as he could, the doctor's car barely keeping up. They saw B. A.'s muscular frame on the veranda as he watched them turn in at the driveway. The big man went to the door and called Face out to meet them. Winton peered out at them from the barn door and vanished again after he identified the cars to his satisfaction. That Winton had been left alone in the barn by B. A. made the call about Murdock's condition even more ominous.

Hannibal let Cyndy out and continued on to the barn to park the vehicle. She had already disappeared into the house when he jogged up the overgrown drive to step onto the porch. Doctor Freedman joined them, still a little agitated with the quick-paced trip he had just made.

"Report, Lieutenant." Hannibal's worried eyes strayed past the two men to the farmhouse door but focused as soon as Face began to tell him everything he had heard and seen.

"Doctor Freedman, we _have_ to know what those tests showed." The Colonel glared at the man. In his opinion, the doctor should have reported the information as soon as he knew _anything_.

"As much as I want to, I can't divulge those results when the patient tells me not to." The doctor met Hannibal's stunned eyes with an apologetic shrug. "Let me see the patient and maybe I can convince him."

"When did he . . . " The Colonel left his question open-ended.

Face cleared his throat, realizing what the private conversation between Murdock and the doctor had been about the night before.

"Tránh xa! (Stay away!) Tránh xa!"

They all startled at the shout but Face was the first to react. Rushing into the farmhouse, he came to an abrupt halt as soon as he saw the scene in front of him. Cyndy stood by the kitchen table, her hands up to her mouth, her eyes wide and frightened. Somehow Murdock had pulled himself into a sitting position. Pieces from a broken water glass lay scattered around the couch and chair. With one piece of glass, he had sliced open his wrist. The shard, still in his trembling fingers, was poised to slash deeper.

His attention turned to Face, then Hannibal who had come in behind him. Hunched over, hands shaking, he growled at them when they moved closer. Blood streamed from the gash, making a speckled ink blot-like pattern on the blanket in his lap.

"Hãy để tôi một mình. Hãy để tôi về nhà. (Leave me alone. Let me go home.)"

His agonized expression told them more than his words did.

He raised his voice and repeated his demands. "_Hãy để tôi một mình! Hãy để tôi về nhà!_"

After the outburst, he gasped for his next breaths, tightening his grip on the glass piece, cutting his fingers as he did.

Doctor Freedman stopped short behind Face and Hannibal, taking in the scene before speaking. "What's he saying?" he asked in a low voice, not letting his eyes wander from the frantic man on the couch.

The Colonel shook his head and muttered, "None of us know the language. Not as well as he does. But I think I can guess. He's been saying it ever since he came back here. Something about going home."

Hannibal caught a faint sound coming from the vicinity of the back door. He nudged Face and whispered, "Talk to him, Lieutenant."

The door quietly opened and B. A. appeared. He nodded at the group clustered in the dining room and then glanced toward the man on the couch. His back to the door, Murdock remained unaware of his entrance.

Face drew in a deep breath to slow his racing heart. He hoped B. A. did not step on any creaking floorboards as he made his way toward the Captain.

"Murdock, buddy, no matter what you think your brother Billy is telling you, you have to listen to us. This A-team isn't a team without you." Face said the words in a steady calming tone, trying to maintain eye contact with his friend. His own throat tightened as he struggled to find the right words to convince his best friend to stay alive.

The pilot squinted at him for minutes before shaking his head weakly. "Don' . . . need . . . me." His gaze left them. He turned the shard over and over in his fingers as if mesmerized by its deadly edges.

"You think the only brother you have is Billy? What about me? You're the only brother _I've_ ever had. After all we've been through, I thought you felt the same way." Face winced as the blood continued to soak the blanket and create a spreading stain.

"Billy." One whispered word before the Captain's eyes closed briefly. He forced them back open and glared wildly at the group, seeming to momentarily forget who they were before focusing on the glass bit in his hand again.

The Lieutenant shook his head, panic gripping his heart. "He isn't listening to me, Colonel. I'm not reaching him."

Murdock grimaced as he looked at Hannibal. "I failed . . . couldn' finish . . . it."

B. A. was only about four feet away from the pilot when Hannibal suddenly realized why this was happening. "You couldn't be at the theater _tonight_ but once you get well, you'll be back stronger than ever next weekend. _I'm_ not Hotspur; _you_ are. I could _never_ take your place. _No one can. On the stage, in the air or on this team._"

"Billy . . . " Murdock rasped, his face contorted with pain.

"Must let you do your job. Now is not your time. He's wrong." Hannibal crossed his arms, forcing his words to be firm. His insides had turned to a queasy mush. He didn't know if Murdock needed the team leader or the father image in him to be speaking. He chose the leadership role. It had worked in the past with Murdock. He was a good soldier.

"Drop it, Captain. _That's an order._"

The pilot raised the piece of glass to his wrist but his hand was shaking too much. He breathed as deeply as he could and tried to steady himself. "Billy said . . . "

B. A. rushed the final four feet and grabbed Murdock's wrists from behind, jerking his arms up and over his head. The action forced the pilot to collapse back onto the pillows. Yelping in pain with the sudden stretch of his abdomen, Murdock looked with a confused gaze up at the muscular Sergeant.

Breathing hard, B. A. scowled down at him. "I tol' you, I ain' gonna let you die, fool." He pried Murdock's fingers open and let the glass fall on the floor at his feet. His hand clamped around the bleeding wrist again. For now, he disregarded how much pain the hold inflicted on the pilot. Blood seeped through his fingers and discolored his gold rings but he wasn't going to let go.

Bringing himself around to sit in the chair, not removing his massive hands from the pilot's too-thin wrists, he muttered, "Jus' look at the fool thing you did here." Tightening his grip on the man's wrists, he forced Murdock to make eye contact. "Ain' right, man, an' you know it. Too many people'd miss ya."

The brown eyes squeezed shut, tears involuntarily escaping the corners and trickling down the sides of his face. He let out a short shuddering breath. "You . . . too, Big Guy?"

"Yeah. Me, too," the Sergeant mumbled.

Everyone seemed to relax all at once as soon as the shard was out of the pilot's hand. Hannibal nudged the doctor and they stepped onto the veranda for a private conversation.

In seconds, Cyndy was at work, clearing away all of the shattered glass from around the couch with a broom and dustpan. "He said he was in pain. I put the glass of water on the chair and turned my back for a minute to get the pill bottle. I didn't know." As she straightened from her task, she repeated, "I didn't know." She said it to Face but looked at Murdock and B. A. Shock still showed in her expression.

The big man nodded. "Ya couldn'ta, li'l sis." He still held Murdock's wrists but the fight had left the injured man. Murdock lay quivering in his attempt to control his intense emotional pain. B. A. bowed his head, attempting to think of things to say that would relieve the internal turmoil. He came up empty so said nothing. The injured man had his eyes squeezed shut against the world anyway.

Face took the dustpan and broom from Cyndy, dumping the glass in the garbage can and propping the broom up in a corner of the kitchen. "Come here, Angel." He opened up his arms and let her relax in his embrace.

Doctor Freedman carried his medical bag as he followed Hannibal inside. The sounds brought Murdock back from whatever battle he was fighting inside and he opened his eyes. Taking out a syringe and a vial of liquid from his bag on the table, the doctor prepared a dose of diazepam to reduce the injured man's agitation.

"The doctor tells me the lab results show you have a type of bacterial pneumonia, Captain. Totally treatable with antibiotics but because you were so _stubborn_ . . . " Murdock sniffed and turned his face away, ". . . it's going to take all of this week to get you back on your feet. Even then, you'll have to have plenty of rest. Tomorrow Cyndy and Face will take you in for a chest X-ray to make sure what's going on with your ribs and lungs." The pilot scowled. "That's an order."

Murdock impassively watched as Doctor Freedman administered the diazepam and then turned his eyes back to Hannibal.

"Another thing, Captain. Only the Man Upstairs knows when it's your time. Not me and _not_ your brother Billy. Remember that."

Thinking about those words, Murdock drifted into a dreamless sleep, one without any voices taunting, threatening or pleading with him.


	69. Chapter 69 Intermittent Memory Loss

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 69 Intermittent Memory Loss

When he woke, he saw moonlight streaming in through the farmhouse's kitchen window. It illuminated the kitchen floor but didn't penetrate the dining room semi-darkness. He squinted and could barely make out the armchair where Cyndy dozed. Even though the chair was in shadow he could tell her knees were bent and her feet were drawn up to her. Her arms hugged herself and he wondered why she didn't have a blanket over her.

For the first time in several days, he didn't feel like coughing or vomiting.

_Maybe Billy was wrong. Maybe it isn't my time after all. I sure feel a bit better'n I was. _

The voices in his mind were silent, too. His thinking was still cloudy but not as bad as it was when he came home after visiting Hollis.

_I gotta get ready for a performance t'night. Feelin' like this, it should be even better'n the last two nights._

"You're awake?" Face mumbled the question from the kitchen chair beside him.

When he glanced over, he could make out dark circles under his friend's eyes. "Why're you still 'wake? 'N' why didn' you take a blanket 'n' cover Cyndy?"

"Because you were shivering so much, you didn't get warm until we put nearly every blanket in the house over you. And I'm awake because someone has to be awake with you for the next seventy-two hours because of the stupid stunt you pulled. Let me wake Cyndy up. She'll check the IV." Face lit the oil lamp on the table and moved toward the armchair, stretching as he did.

"Stunt? IV?" Murdock peered down at his right arm. His gaze followed the tubing to a bag hanging from a metal pole.

_Good doctor's been busy requisitionin' stuff from the hospital. Mus' be as good as Face at scammin'._

At the same time he noted the gauze dressing around his right wrist and the bandage strips around the fingers of his left hand. A vague memory of what happened assaulted his mind and he grimaced.

_A piece o' glass 'n' B. A. wrestlin' it outta my hand. Maybe it's better I don' 'member more'n that._

"Yeah, the stupid thing you did that nearly finished the job your father and the pneumonia started. Don't you remember?" Face glared at him. His fierce gaze softened only when Cyndy touched him on the arm and murmured something in his ear.

"'Member I got bouts o' intermittent memory loss. Least that's what they tell me." He tried to tease the Lieutenant but was met with a frustrated sigh.

"Doctor Freedman will be by tomorrow morning to check on you before he goes to the hospital. He'll remove the IV then so you can go for chest X-rays. Then he'll come back to put the IV in again. He's doing a lot of this out of a favor to Mrs. Bartleman. Besides, he wants to save the theater. He said Hannibal is best sitting in the audience and _you_ need to be on stage, not the other way around."

Murdock frowned in confusion at his friend.

_Hannibal was on stage? Did I lose an entire day of memory? _

He groaned with the thought and the Lieutenant gave him a reproachful look. "If we had known how much you were keeping from us before now, you may not have had to be hooked up like this. And Hannibal says you're grounded until next Friday's performance." Face stroked Cyndy's cheek. "He's awake, Angel."

Murdock noted the pet name and his friend's gentle manner with Cyndy and smiled knowingly to himself.

She slowly opened her eyes and yawned. Stretching, she ambled over to the IV, the Lieutenant following her.

"So what're you 'n' the good doc pumpin' me full of?" Raising his head to watch her, Murdock gestured toward the bag.

"Lactated Ringer's and five percent dextrose for starters." She examined the drip and checked the bag. "Doctor Freedman started you on a course of antibiotics for the pneumonia."

"Yum yum," he mumbled. He sighed and let his head fall back into the pillows. "When do I get the mushed up peas 'n' steak baby food?"

"Listen. You've been vomiting up so much you're dehydrated. I tried to tell you but you're too stubborn to listen, H. M. Now you'll have to stay put except for trips to the outhouse. And . . . " She paused, her hands on her hips, and gave him a stern look. "You will make every one of those trips accompanied by someone."

He smirked and raised his eyebrows at her. "So I should wait to go 'til it's your shift?"

She shook her head at his hint. "Now I _know_ you're feeling a little better. Temp and I will be doing shifts together and _he_ will be helping you in that capacity. Sorry."

"A guy's gotta try." He shrugged and tried to smile. So much talking was making him sleepy.

Face put one arm around Cyndy's shoulders and drew her near to his side. "Not with _my_ girl, you don't."

Murdock nodded and let his head sink deeper into the pillows. "Sorry 'bout the loss o' sleep. Didn't mean to cause so much worry."

"Worry? That word doesn't even begin to cover what all of us were feeling. You had B. A. so scared, he wouldn't stop holding onto your wrists until he was sure you were completely asleep. Even then, he took the first watch. Both he and Hannibal did." The Lieutenant sank down into the armchair and scrutinized the effect his words were having on his friend.

"Hannibal? Did he go on stage Sunday?" Murdock fought to keep from yawning. "How'd he do?"

Cyndy moved the kitchen chair so she could look directly into his eyes. There was a hint of amusement in her expression. "He did but I'd rather have you be Lady Kate's husband than him. He was . . . awkward . . . " She paused and shook her head. "He meant well but all I could think of was a lizard-like monster rising up out of a swamp when I looked at him. It was all I could do to keep from laughing when he said his lines about love."

"And th' audience?" Murdock yawned despite himself and then apologized. "Sorry."

"Well, they didn't exactly throw rotten tomatoes but he and I didn't get as much applause as when you and I took our curtain calls." She gave him a sad smile and took his hand in hers. "I want the _best_ Hotspur with me when I'm Lady Kate on stage."

He felt the small squeeze she gave his hand before releasing it. Surprised, he gazed into her eyes. Her look was so sweet and tender, his heart ached. For a few moments he remembered waking up twenty years ago in the hospital to the sound of her reading _Peter Pan _out loud to him and holding his hand throughout his slow recovery. He watched the play of emotions on her face and knew she was remembering the same thing.

Face coughed to get their attention and the moment was gone.

_Better to let th' memories be memories 'n' look to the future. _

His eyelids were drooping but he couldn't help watching Cyndy as she stood up to get a cup of coffee for herself and the Lieutenant.

"Better get some more sleep, buddy. You've got chest X-rays scheduled for tomorrow bright and early while the doctor can sneak you in." Face adjusted the blankets and sat in the kitchen chair that Cyndy had vacated.

"Is there anything else we can do for you, H. M.?" Cyndy handed the Lieutenant his cup before sitting in the armchair at the foot of the couch.

"If you wouldn' mind, wouldja get the copy o' _Peter Pan _from my room, Faceman? It's on the book shelf." He winked at Cyndy and smiled. "It's a great book to fall 'sleep to."


	70. Chapter 70 Diagnosis

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 70 Diagnosis

When Monday morning came and the household began to stir, the first thing on each person's mind was how much improvement Murdock had made since starting the course of antibiotics. He had lost so much weight in the past several days and was far too feeble and pale for any of them to prevent themselves from hovering over him. The suicide attempt was still too fresh in each mind.

Even though the Captain attempted to divert attention away from himself, it was apparent to all of them he was still in serious pain.

B. A. insisted on driving the van to take Murdock, Cyndy and Face to the Beaumont hospital for the chest X-rays.

"What? Ya don' wan' _me_ to drive?" The pilot gave the big man a lopsided goofy grin and weakly punched at his arm as the Sergeant knelt to assist him to his feet. A wave of dizziness wiped the smile from his face and he mumbled, "Not _quite_ ready . . . for that . . . I guess. Better let me . . . rest . . . few minutes more."

B. A. lowered him onto the kitchen chair and, imitating something he had seen Face do when Murdock was in pain, rubbed his back with gentle massive hands until he said he was ready.

"Don' mean I'm worried 'bout _you_, crazy man. Don' want my ride _wrecked_ by Faceman here." B. A. scowled at the Lieutenant before helping Murdock out to the van and carefully lifting him into the front seat.

As the pilot reached for the tuner on the radio, the muscular Sergeant slapped his hand away.

"Ow!" Murdock yelped with surprise and turned shocked eyes on the black man. "Jus' thought time'd pass better if we had music on." The Captain loosely crossed his arms and pouted. B. A. adjusted the seat in a slight reclining position and belted him in before closing the door.

"Some things never change," Face mumbled to Cyndy. He helped her into the rear passenger seat and settled himself in before shutting the door. "Sorry, buddy." He patted Murdock's shoulder in sympathy.

As he climbed into the driver's seat, B. A. let the corners of his mouth twitch in a faint smile. "Got a better idea for ya. How 'bout I set ya up to talk to that pretty nurse of yours? Been awhile since ya talked to 'er, ain' it?" He saw the uncertain frown the pilot gave him. "Hannibal said it'd be okay. Ya wanna talk to her or don'tcha?" Without waiting for an answer, the Sergeant punched Dani's apartment phone number in and listened. "Dani? Someone here anxious ta talk to ya."

He handed the receiver to the astonished Captain before starting the van.

Murdock smiled and closed his eyes with contentment as he held the mobile telephone to his ear. "You don' know how good it is t' hear your voice, sweet Angel o' mine." He took several short, shallow breaths while she talked.

He listened for a few minutes and shook his head. "Can't talk for long. Jus' needed t' hear ya say my name." His smile grew into a grin. "Yeah, 'n' t' hear ya say that, too. I love ya, too, darlin'."

Talking so much made him short of breath and being short of breath made him . . .

"Listen, darlin', Faceman's here. Wanna say hi to 'im?" He held the phone over his head and shook it in the Lieutenant's general direction. "Take it!" he gasped as he fished in his pants pocket for his handkerchief. He got it to his mouth just in time before a series of coughs erupted from him.

B. A. glanced across at him, a frown creasing his brow. In a low rumble, he asked, "You gonna be alright?"

The pilot nodded his head once before a new wave of coughing seized him.

Face covered the phone with his hand. "Dani's wondering why you're coughing. Should I tell her?"

Murdock stubbornly shook his head as the coughs continued.

"He accidentally swallowed his gum the wrong way. He'll be fine." The conman smiled into the phone. Murdock flashed him a thumbs-up with his left hand while holding the handkerchief to his mouth with his right. "Look, Dani, Hannibal didn't really want us to tie up this phone too long."

The Captain's coughing fit finished and he sagged back against the seat. Squeezing his eyes shut, he gestured for the phone. "Dani, darlin'?" His voice was raspy and he cleared his throat before continuing. "Another nine 'r ten days 'n' we'll be back in L. A. Make sure they don' rent out my room 'fore then." He listened and tried to chuckle. "Mm-hmm, love ya, too, Angel. Bye."

He cradled the phone against his chest for a few moments, a sad smile on his lips and a distant look to his eyes. Replacing the phone, he winked at the Sergeant. "Thanks, B. A. Don' know how ya knew but I sure did need that."

The black man grunted and nodded.

Doctor Freedman waited for them at the front entrance to the hospital like he had the evening he brought Face and Murdock in to see Hollis Latreque. A handful of cars were in the parking lot, mostly staff changing shifts. A few curious eyes drifted toward B. A. and then glanced away, intent on either getting to work or going home.

After supporting Murdock as he left the van seat and settled into the wheelchair the doctor had secured, B. A. scowled at the pilot and raised a clenched fist in his face. "I'm goin' wit' you. Got a problem wit' that, fool?"

Murdock swallowed and looked past the fist into the black man's eyes. He shook his head.

"I'm coming, too." Face took Cyndy by the elbow to usher her along behind the wheelchair.

"Don' need more'n Cyndy with me, guys," Murdock protested. As the two men and Cyndy continued to follow, he crossed his arms and grumbled, "Fine. We'll jus' look like a Fourth o' July parade goin' down the hallways. Nobody'll notice us at all."

As they waited in the lounge area outside the radiology department, Face occupied himself with the entertainment section of the Beaumont daily newspaper while B. A. read the sports section and Cyndy flipped through an old _Family Circle_ magazine. A grin spread across the Lieutenant's face as he read.

Folding the pages back and pointing to an article, he passed the paper to Cyndy. "I think we need to get at least three copies of this, don't you?"

As she read, her eyes sparkled with tears. "Oh, he's going to be so pleased when he sees this. Look, B. A."

The muscular Sergeant scanned the article, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I'll make sure we stop somewhere. He _needs_ some good news like this."

"But Hannibal isn't going to like it," Face warned, the smile still in place.

"Let 'im try an' say somethin'." B. A. tightened one hand into a fist, then relaxed it and smirked instead.

All three stood as Doctor Freedman wheeled Murdock still clothed in a hospital gown into the lounge area. "I'll look at those X-rays and let you know in a few minutes what I see." He disappeared back through the doors of the radiology department.

"Hope we can go home soon. I'm real tired." The pilot's voice was barely a whisper and his eyelids drooped.

"Hang in there, buddy. We'll hear what Doctor Freedman has to say and you can sleep for a while in the van while Cyndy and I get a few groceries, okay?" Face glanced at Cyndy and B. A. with a concerned frown.

"It's to be expected, H. M. You pushed yourself pretty hard and now it's time for you to let us nurse you back to health." The young lady smiled. She took Face's hand in both of hers to reassure him.

B. A. fidgeted, something he rarely did, while silence filled the lounge area and the pilot's head slowly lolled forward.

Cyndy startled Murdock awake when she put her hands on both shoulders and gently massaged his back muscles.

Then Doctor Freedman returned, a grim look on his face. "If you all would follow me," and he led them to a small darkened room where fluorescent panels illuminated three X-ray films from behind.

Even to B. A.'s untrained eye, the X-rays were discouraging.

Hairline cracks in two of the ribs on his left side were almost obscured by several shadowy clouds that almost filled the left lung. The right lung contained one smaller nebula in the lower lobe.

"This man needs to be in the hospital," the doctor affirmed, removing his glasses and rubbing at his weary eyes. "For his own sake, please convince him."

Cyndy and the two men glanced at Murdock but he had fallen asleep again.


	71. Chapter 71 A Grim Outlook

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 71 A Grim Outlook

"Look, Hannibal, there was no way we could have done anything differently." Face clenched his teeth against the disapproval he sensed was directed his way. "I know it isn't what Murdock wanted but . . . "

"He's going to wake up, find himself in the hospital against his wishes and what do you think he'll do if one of us isn't there with him?" The Colonel flicked cigar ash out of the open window of the El Camino as Face and Cyndy drove back into Beaumont later that afternoon. His steel blue eyes stared out at the passing fields and trees.

"That's not fair, Hannibal." Cyndy protested. "You heard what B. A. said when he came back to the house. Even he was shocked at the sight of those X-rays." She softened her voice. "You've known H. M. for about fifteen years. He's too stubborn for his own good sometimes. He has to be _forced_ to let others take care of him. To protect his mother and grandparents, he used to hide what his father did to him. I'm not sure he always let _me_ see it all."

_She's right and I know it. The kid keeps so much inside himself, it's a wonder he functions as well as he does. How long did it take us to get the truth about his father from him? _

The Colonel scowled at the thought of McKeever. His sixth sense was tingling again. Murdock's father was going to make another move sometime soon. "He would never have gone into any hospital, and especially not the one in Beaumont. His mother died in that hospital."

"How did you know _that_?" she gasped.

Glancing at the young woman beside him, he noted her puzzlement. "He told me."

Face pulled into the first available parking space closest to the exit where Hollis Latreque's room was. Doctor Freedman had called in another favor and got Murdock settled in a room across the hall to make visits more convenient and less conspicuous.

"Go back to the farm and have B. A. bring Cyndy back in about six hours. We'll have to plan how we're going to keep someone here with him round the clock." Hannibal got out and started toward the exit door.

"Don't you want us to come in with you?" The Lieutenant leaned out of the window.

The Colonel shook his head "no" as he approached the door and disappeared inside. He heard the television in Hollis's room. A game show was on and Latreque was talking to the screen, giving the answers to the questions the game host asked.

In contrast, the door to Murdock's room was closed and Hannibal hesitated, his hand poised to open it. He could hear a faint beeping from inside and another steady pump-like sound that seemed familiar.

_Come on, John. It isn't like you haven't sat with someone in serious condition before. Murdock's tough. He can't be any worse than he was when he tried to take his own life. _

Involuntarily, Hannibal's memory went back about thirty years to a week between wars when he was given leave to return home to Detroit.

His father was dying. The man who wielded a belt during disciplinary lashings with such ferocity could hardly lift his hand to acknowledge his son's presence in the room. Hannibal had noted the tracheal tube and ventilator, the heart monitor and the catheter's drainage bag, felt his facial muscles tighten and his gut wrench within. His mind screamed to leave but he stayed.

He remained there beside his father's bed, occasionally spooning ice chips into the man's mouth, listening to his incoherent babbling and finally hearing the last rattling breath released. The small private memorial service and interrment was held two days later and Lieutenant Colonel John "Hannibal" Smith traveled alone back to Fort Campbell, Kentucky, headquarters of the Army's Fifth Special Forces Group.

He thought that chapter of his life was over and forgotten. Until now. Until he thought he heard the sounds of the same machines through the door to Murdock's room.

"Colonel Smith, are you alright?" Doctor Freedman paused and put a hand on the Colonel's shoulder, making him flinch slightly. Hannibal did not hear him approach as lost as he was in the memory.

Nodding, he drew his hand back from the door and faced the doctor. He forced the memory back into the deep recesses of his mind where it had remained unopened for so many years. "I'm here to see Murdock and ask why his condition merited his wishes and my instructions to be ignored."

Doctor Freedman pressed his lips into a tight line. "I take my job seriously, Smith. I didn't sign him into this hospital without good reason. He's registered under the alias he's using for the theater production. Henry Michael McKilvery."

"I told you we would do whatever we needed to out there at the farm to keep him alive. He agreed. Not only that, he insisted." Hannibal felt his face tightening with anger. "I want to see him and make sure this is what he wants."

The doctor hesitated, eyes narrowed, before nodding. He rapped lightly on the door, then opened it silently without waiting for a response from inside. Hannibal noticed and felt his stomach knot. "Come in, Colonel, but be very quiet."

The soft fluorescent light above the hospital bed was the only illumination in the room besides the bluish-green squiggly lines and numbers on the heart rate monitor. A second machine, the one making soft pumping sounds, was on the other side of the bed. An endotracheal tube had been inserted through his nose and down through his windpipe to assist him in breathing. A long strip of tape held the tube in place. Beside the ventilator was another machine with a tube that led to a well-taped area of Murdock's chest. An IV pole held a bag which slowly dripped its contents through a tube into his right arm.

Murdock's face creased in pain for a few seconds before relaxing again. He was asleep.

Hannibal moved a chair close to the bed and sat heavily in it. His gaze flickered over the array of machines."Is all of this really necessary, doc?" he asked in a low voice without turning to look at the other man.

"Do you want to see the X-rays, Colonel?" Doctor Freedman held a large goldenrod-colored envelope in his hands. Holding one of the films up to the soft light, he encouraged Hannibal to look at it. Without saying a word, he pointed to the two fractured ribs, then outlined the massive infected area of the left lung with the tip of a pen.

When he was finished the Colonel bowed his head for a few seconds. Looking the doctor directly in the eyes, he responded. "I understand. Will he recover?"

"Not here in front of the patient. Come with me." The doctor led Hannibal from the room and outside. Leaning against the wall, the Colonel asked again, "Will he recover?"

"Based on what I saw on the X-rays, he may be operating at about thirty percent of his lung capacity. I won't know exactly what that percentage is until he can take some pulmonary function tests. The right lung should clear with the clarithromycin and amoxycillin we're giving him. The left lung is more worrisome. There's a build-up of fluid around the lower lobe so I ordered a thoracostomy." Seeing Hannibal's puzzled expression, Freedman explained, "A chest tube has been placed to drain the fluid. That and the oxygen being given him through the ventilator should improve his breathing and increase the amount of oxygen getting into the bloodstream. His sats reading was a little below ninety percent."

Hannibal raised his hand in confusion. "Please, doc. I'm not a med school graduate. Tell me in English."

"The amount of oxygen in his bloodstream, the oxygen saturation levels. To keep his internal organs functioning they need to be between ninety-five and one hundred percent. If his breathing is restricted by the infection in the lungs and the fluid outside the lung, and the transfer of oxygen to the bloodstream is not happening as well as it should, his organs will be damaged."

The Colonel's jaw muscles twitched in an effort to keep his emotions in check. "Has there already been damage?"

"I won't know until he recovers sufficiently. I don't believe so or we would have seen some signs of it. But his condition is acute. His malnutrition is only a small part of it. It'll take quite a few days if not weeks for him to recover completely." The doctor's expression softened. "If you want one of your people to stay with him around the clock, I'll arrange for that. I asked only a few trusted nurses to give him care. That should keep his identity out of the public eye."

Hannibal nodded and glanced toward the exit door. "His mother died of pneumonia in this hospital. I'll ask again, Will he recover?"

"I will do everything I can to make sure he does, but I can't promise." The doctor gestured toward the door and held it open for the Colonel. Hannibal returned to Murdock's side to watch and wait.


	72. Chapter 72 Vigil

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 72 Vigil

Hannibal was reluctant to give up his spot beside Murdock's bedside when Cyndy returned at six that evening. When she entered the room, she noted his exhausted face and the dark smudges under his eyes. One glance told her the pilot had not regained consciousness yet.

"It's probably for the best he doesn't wake up until the antibiotics begin to work, Hannibal. If he finds all of those tubes in his body, he might tear them out and try to leave the hospital." She massaged the Colonel's shoulders while he remained sitting.

Covering his eyes with one hand, he let her continue for a few minutes. "Yeah, I know."

She paused, her hands still on his shoulders. "Has he moved at all since you've been here?" Her voice quavered. He shook his head and patted one of her hands.

"Guess I'd better head on back to the farmhouse. I realize Face would prefer staying here with you tonight and I don't relish leaving you here alone." Even though he moved as if to stand up and leave, he remained where he was, staring at the man in the hospital bed.

She smiled even though he could not see it. "I've done it before. If he wakes, I'll call the mobile phone in the van right after I get help from the nurses' station to keep him from trying to escape."

Hannibal stood and let her take his place in the chair. Glancing down, he saw the book in her hand. He raised his eyebrows. "_Peter Pan_?"

She shrugged. "He wanted me to read it to him last night. I thought maybe it would be a good way to pass the time."

"You're one helluva good woman, Miss Berquon." He smiled down at her. Giving Murdock one more troubled scrutinizing look, he walked to the door. "I'll bring Face here in about six hours to take over for you. Have a good night, and call B. A. if anything happens, okay?"

She nodded and he left, easing the door shut behind him.

Setting the book down on the overbed table, Cyndy slid her chair nearer to the pilot. Reaching between the bars of the bed rail, she grasped Murdock's hand. She stroked the length of his slender fingers with her thumb while pensively watching his face for the slightest reaction. Seeing none, she sighed. Opening the book in her lap, she continued to hold his hand and began to read where she had left off the night before.

"'Second to the right, and straight on till morning.'

That, Peter had told Wendy, was the way to the Neverland . . . "

Back at the farm, everyone except for Winton subconsciously waited for the phone call which would indicate Murdock had awoken. As the hours passed one by one, each man attempted to find ways to distract themselves.

Hannibal wandered out to the barn and, while B. A. reorganized his mechanic's toolbox, the Colonel inventoried the arsenal of weapons they had stored in the locked compartment in the back of the van. Face spent the time cleaning up in the kitchen, eventually wandering out to the barn to engage Hannibal in meaningless conversation.

Winton watched from the loft, his eyes glittering. Something was wrong. He suspected what it was but held his comments. He knew you didn't stick your hand into a writhing knot of timber rattlesnakes. Best to keep away and let them sort it out.

Cyndy didn't call but Dani did and immediately asked to speak to Hannibal. B. A. and Face both clustered around the Colonel, expecting to hear Cyndy or the doctor. Instead they heard a very angry, very insistent voice demanding to know what was wrong with Murdock.

"He's in the hospital in Beaumont. He came down with something and because he needs to get well quickly in order to finish the mission, we thought it better he get treated there." Hannibal glanced at B. A. who was frowning his disapproval at the half-truth. Evidently Dani didn't buy it either. The two men could only hear the Colonel's side of the phone call but from his harsh tone they could tell.

"No, I'm not lying. Would I lie to you if I thought it was serious?" He listened, weariness etched in the expression on his face. "No, it isn't a good idea for you to take time off and come out here."

The Lieutenant stuffed his hands in his pants pockets and stared down at the compacted dirt floor of the barn. B. A. grumbled at Hannibal's words.

"Listen, Miss Scalatini, I _know_ you're concerned but there's really no reason to worry. I'll keep in touch. Now we need to end this conversation. We have some things to do so we can finish our job and come home to L. A. We'll see you then." He hung up before any more protests could be made.

"You think that was smart, Hannibal? She knows something's wrong and she isn't one to stay at home wringing her hands." Face gave the Colonel a solemn look.

"I'm hoping our Captain has had some influence on her impetuous nature and she _will_ do what she's told." Hannibal handed the phone back to B. A. Both men gazed at him with skepticism.

"Better prepare another guest room," Face muttered under his breath.

The remainder of the six hours passed slowly. When Face came to relieve Cyndy at midnight, he could see she was almost in tears.

Motioning for him to follow her into the hallway, she slid her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. For minutes they remained like that, Face gently massaging her back with one hand, his other hand cradling her head.

When she spoke it was in a tremulous murmur. "I honestly thought it would be like twenty years ago. I'd hold his hand and read and he'd wake up. I love you, Temp, but he will _always_ have a special place in my heart." Her breaths became more labored as her stifled emotions came out.

Face felt a pang of jealousy stab him in the gut. With a great deal more control than he thought capable of, he brushed it aside and held her tighter. "I know," he whispered into her vanilla-scented hair. For several seconds he let her cry. The shoulder of his suit would be stained with mascara but he didn't care at the moment.

Neither of them saw the hunched shadow in the janitor's uniform at the end of the hallway. The older man stared at them, noting the room they had come from, and continued to mop the tile floor around the nurse's station.

When Cyndy finally left the building and Face took his post in Murdock's room, the janitor finished the floor and returned the bucket and mop to the utility closet. Pausing, he took the copy of the Beaumont newspaper entertainment section from the shelf where he placed it. He read the theater review again and smiled. Stuffing it in his uniform pocket, he reflected on how fortuitous it was that he had managed to keep this late night part-time job a secret from Latreque's son.

His only problem was how to make young Latreque's death look like an accident. His own son's murder would not be as difficult to disguise.


	73. Chapter 73 Waiting

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 73 Waiting

After Cyndy left him, Face sat for a quarter of an hour, his worried gaze wandering from one machine to the next and then back to his friend. He had seen only the IV inserted in his unconscious friend's arm. These two machines obviously came later, after Cyndy and he had driven back to the farm to report to Hannibal.

_This can't be happening. Murdock survived so many crashes, so many beatings, so many VC interrogations. For him to be brought down by this . . . _

The Lieutenant placed an elbow on each knee and leaned forward, lacing his fingers together in front of him.

"I sure wish you could talk to me, let me know you're still there." The sound of his own voice seemed too loud and he glanced once more to see if Murdock had reacted.

The ventilator kept up its rhythmic pumping as the pilot's chest gently rose and fell. On the other side, the heart rate monitor continued to emit its sharp _beep_s. The small hills and valleys the lines formed reassured Face that at least his friend's heart was strong and functioning as it was supposed to. Seeing no change in Murdock's pallid expression, he leaned back in the chair and sighed.

_Well, what now? I have six hours before B. A. comes to take his turn. I don't know how he's going to handle this. He hates hospitals as much as I do, and for him to see Murdock hooked up like this . . . _

The night nurse softly tapped at the door before coming in. She was dark-skinned, young, with tightly crimped raven hair, a young woman the Lieutenant would normally have seduced in a heartbeat. At least he would have had her phone number by the time she finished her shift.

_But not now. Not when I have a buddy in such bad shape and a girl who loves me so much. _

After acknowledging her presence with a brief nod, he turned his attention back to the patient in the bed.

The nurse cleared her throat. "If you wouldn't mind waiting outside, I have to check the catheter bag and record his vitals." She removed syringes from her uniform pocket. When Face gave her a puzzled look, she smiled. "His antibiotics. He can't take them by mouth because of the intubation. Now if you'll excuse me . . . "

"Do you have a place where I can get some coffee? I'm going to be here for a while." The Lieutenant paused at the door and cast another anxious look at Murdock.

"Well, I wouldn't call it _coffee_ but there is some very strong brown liquid brewing in the pot in the emergency waiting area. That should keep you awake for a few hours, if you know what I mean. Turn right, go down the hallway, take another right and go through the doors at the end." She smiled again and pulled the privacy curtain around on its wheeled track on the ceiling.

"Thanks," Face muttered as he left the room and strode down the hall. He didn't notice the janitor or the cautious attention the older man gave him as he passed by the utility closet. Nor did he observe him quietly shut the closet door and wheel a janitor cleaning cart toward one of the visitor restrooms halfway down the hall from Murdock's room.

ooooooooo

Cyndy drove her El Camino to a nearby Speedy Stop to put gasoline in the tank. With the trips back and forth from the farm to the Beaumont hospital, the gauge was registering at a quarter tank.

Upon entering the convenience store, her eyes rested on the snack food area. Wandering through the aisles, she picked up a small box of circus animal crackers for Murdock for when he awoke and could have solid food again. A small voice in her heart murmured, "_If _he wakes up again." Her mind fiercely pushed away that thought.

For herself she got a cherry Slushie and an overcooked hot dog with all the trimmings. She knew Temp preferred a very restrictive diet which he said kept him in optimal health. Picking up a small package of almonds for him, her gaze fell on a basket of bananas, apples and oranges. Smiling to herself, she put her purchases on the counter and chose one of each fruit.

"Wanna bag for all this?" The gum-smacking high schooler drawled his question as he rang up her gas and store purchases. He stared at her with bored eyes and waited for her answer.

Looking at him, she nodded and put one more item on the counter: a large pack of bubble gum.

"Thanks."

"You gonna eat all that by yourself?" he asked in a mildly surprised tone. Maybe the kid was making idle conversation but Cyndy frowned as he handed her the handles to the plastic bag.

"No, I have a friend waiting for me." She paid for her items. Tucking the drink between her forearm and her body, she held the bag and her purse in one hand and her wrapped hot dog in the other.

Then she shouldered the door open and walked to her vehicle.

_No reason anyone needs me out at the farm for a while and Temp might be lonely. _

The same quiet voice as before whispered, "Besides, you want to be there when H. M. wakes up, don't you?" Again, she pushed the nagging voice from her mind and drove back to the hospital.

oooooo

The night nurse finished injecting the antibiotics into the IV line and checked the heart rate monitor one last time. Writing down the time, she wrapped the blood pressure cuff around Murdock's upper arm.

She shook her head when she pumped the cuff up. His arm was too thin to get an accurate reading.

"I'll have to go get a different cuff. You wait right here." She didn't expect an answer.

When a gurgling sound came from the patient in the bed and she saw his closed eyes tighten with pain, she took a step toward him to assure him of where he was.

Both hands clenched fistfuls of blanket and sheet as his eyelids fluttered for a second before opening. He stared at her, his brown eyes dilated and wild with panic and confusion. His gaze wandered from machine to machine, down at the IV in his arm, the bandage and identification bracelet around his wrist and back up at her. In his eyes was a question: "Why?"

"Mr. McKilvery? Don't be afraid. You're in Beaumont in the hospital." When he gripped her wrist as tightly as he could manage, her eyes widened in fright and she reached for the button for the nurses' station.

He twisted her wrist and shook his head. His mouth formed the word "no" but no sound came out.


	74. Chapter 74 Restraints

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 74 Restraints

The night nurse wrested her wrist from Murdock's grasp as he glanced down with horror at the draining tube coming from his chest and the IV tube in his arm.

"Mister McKilvery, calm down." She tried to restrain both of his wrists as he violently tore at the tape covering the drainage tube.

She could hear the door open. As the pilot threw off her hold on him, she yelled, "Help!"

The privacy curtain slid aside on its casters with a whoosh.

"Oh, thank God you were nearby!" she stammered at the janitor as he pushed her aside and forced the injured man's arms down onto the bed. The pilot arched his back and twisted his body from side to side against the newcomer's unyielding grip.

"Get restraints and some more help. I can't hold 'im fer long!" The older man spat the instructions at her. As she wheeled on her feet and ran from the room, he smiled down at Murdock. "Pretty little mess ya got yerself into, didn'tcha, boy? "

Murdock's eyes widened with the realization of who stood over him holding him down. His struggles were no longer an attempt to rip the tubes from his body but the desperation of a man trying to escape a monster.

McKeever clucked his tongue in mock sympathy. "Oh, yer safe fer now. That lovely nurse'll be back here too quick fer me ta do anythin' 'n' get 'way wit' it. But ya did 'nough to convince 'er to put ya in restraints 'n' shoot somethin' in ya ta calm ya down. Maybe even make ya sleep. I can wait."

He stopped talking as Face entered the room, coffee cup in hand. At the sight of Murdock awake and a stranger forcing him down, he put the cup on the sink counter and rushed the few feet to the bedside.

"What's going on here?" He gaped at the man in the janitor uniform and then at his obviously terrified friend. Murdock's fists were clenching, white-knuckled. His eyes darted frantically from the janitor to his friend and back again.

"Night nurse ran fer help. Yer friend here's tryin' ta kill 'imself, tearin' out all the tubes. I jus' happened ta be cleanin' the restroom, heard her scream." McKeever kept a serious expression while moving over to allow the Lieutenant to assist in restraining Murdock.

His eyes were streaming frustrated tears as the pilot glared at Face, willing him to see the reason for his panicked movements. The endotracheal tube going through his windpipe prevented him from making any sound.

The night nurse returned with a male orderly. As the nurse drew up a syringe of lorazepam and injected it into Murdock's arm, the orderly slipped the padded soft restraints around first one wrist and then the other and secured them to the bed frame.

The janitor melted away toward the door but not before Face patted him on the shoulder. "Sorry about the misunderstanding. Thanks for being here."

McKeever grinned. "Aw, don' mention it. Jus' glad I could be of help." He glanced back at his son, his movements beginning to slow, his eyes beginning to close. "See ya 'round."

As the janitor disappeared through the door, Face turned his attention back to Murdock and the work of the night nurse and orderly.

The Lieutenant stayed well enough in the background to allow the two to finish what they were doing. "He seemed terrified of something. Did you figure out what it was?"

The nurse drew Face aside to explain. "He became agitated when he saw the machines and tubes. It's a normal response when someone's been unconscious for a long period of time and wasn't aware of what was happening to him while he was out." As the orderly left, she smiled a thank you.

The Lieutenant gave her a skeptical appraisal. He couldn't stop thinking about the look of terror he saw on Murdock's face. It seemed much more than waking up in a hospital environment which was against his wishes.

The door opened again and Cyndy entered the room. One look at the soft restraints and Murdock's half-closed eyes staring dully at her made her frown with worry. Dropping the bagged grocery items and her purse on the floor beside the chair and placing her cup of almost-melted cherry Slushie on the overbed table, she touched his hand with the fingers peeking out from her cast.

He kept his eyes half-open and on her face while mouthing words to her.

"I don't understand, H. M." She glanced over to Face. "He's trying hard to say something. It looks like it's important."

The Lieutenant moved to stand behind her. He watched his friend's lips and imitated with his own to attempt to figure out the message.

"Something about his father. Asking us why he's in the hospital." Face rested his hands on Cyndy's shoulders. "Because you have a very serious case of pneumonia and you need to be here. This is probably the safest place you can be. Your father will never be able to touch you here. Not with the round the clock medical care you need."

Murdock feebly shook his head as he twisted his wrists in an attempt to escape the restraints.

The Lieutenant drifted over to the counter and retrieved his lukewarm coffee. Taking a sip and grimacing, he poured the rest down the sink.

"Once your blood oxygen levels return to normal, the doctor will order the breathing tube removed. In the meantime if you can remain calm we may be able to take off the restraints but not until then." The nurse gave her patient a firm look and left the room.

Cyndy noted the anxious expression on Murdock's face and stroked his fingers tenderly. "It'll be okay, H. M. Doctor Freedman knows what he's doing. You'll be back on stage in no time."

Face kissed Cyndy on the top of her head. "I should really let Hannibal know." Picking up the phone on the bedside stand, he dialed the number. Fighting the effects of the high-potency drug, Murdock watched him as he listened for a response.

As B. A.'s sleepy voice grumbled a greeting, the Lieutenant smiled. "Tell the Colonel. Murdock just woke up."

oooooooo

After McKeever finished his shift and clocked out, he wandered past the rooms where Hollis Latreque and Murdock were sleeping. His son's friends were having a snack and a quiet conversation.

_No matter. They'll leave the room sometime ta get coffee 'r some food 'r maybe even ta use the bathroom. 'N' I'll be waitin'. _


	75. Chapter 75 Suction

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 75 Suction

At about three in the morning, Face glanced up to see the helpful janitor walk past the room on his way out to the parking lot. A curious look on his face, he peeked in Hollis's room and then Murdock's room and gave the Lieutenant a friendly wave. Cyndy had her back to the door and by the time the Lieutenant thought to say a good night to the man, he had already left the hospital.

Face hoped Hannibal and the others never found out he had not actually been _in_ the room when Murdock woke up. He knew the Colonel would not be pleased to find the Captain in soft restraints and under sedation. Even in the VA hospital, the use of restraints sometimes made the pilot's flashbacks to his interrogation sessions in the POW camp worse.

_Maybe Doctor Freedman will order the restraints removed when he examines Murdock this morning. Maybe by then Murdock will understand this is all for his own good. _

The Captain woke every time someone entered the room, an observation Face found unusual. He didn't just stir and then go back to sleep; he jolted awake, his eyes registering fear until he could identify the people present. There was no mistaking that expression.

_Something has him spooked. He needs the rest, and the lorazepam should be knocking him out so he can get it. So why is he on alert? _

Until the endotracheal tube was removed and the restraints determined to be unnecessary, there was no way to communicate with the pilot. Lip reading was difficult. Face couldn't discern all of the words.

_He keeps repeating the same thing. Something about his father and the hospital. _

Cyndy left to go back to the farm with two hours remaining in Face's shift. B. A. would come to take over at six in the morning. Only then would the Lieutenant feel he could eat breakfast and get some rest, although not necessarily in that order.

Before the black man arrived to take over, the shift change brought a new nurse, a salt-and-pepper-haired stern-faced woman, to the room to check the patient's IV, vitals and the machines and tubes hooked up to his body.

"If you wouldn't mind stepping out of the room, I have to suction out Mister McKilvery's endotracheal tube. This may take some time so if you need some coffee . . . " The nurse gave Face a no-nonsense look.

The conman flashed her his most charming smile. "Doctor Freedman said one of Mister McKilvery's friends could be in the room at all times. He had an episode one of the last times he was alone with a nurse. He has flashbacks, bad ones, and I have experience in calming him down." Face paused. "Unless, of course, you think you can handle a patient who has gone totally insane because he thinks you're a VC interrogator."

The nurse's gray eyes flickered over the Lieutenant from his finely combed blond hair to his expensive Italian-imported loafers. She sniffed. Glancing down at her patient, seeing his pleading gaze, she grunted and shrugged. "You can wait just outside the curtain so he can see you."

"Now Mister McKilvery, I'm going to be suctioning out your endotracheal tube to make sure it remains clear so you can breathe easier. You may feel a little short of breath and you might need to cough a little. I'll try to be as gentle as I can," the nurse soothed. "I need to listen to your lungs first." She applied the stethoscope to both sides of his chest and seemed satisfied. "You definitely need that mucus suctioned out."

She turned to the vacuum gauge and trap and set it. "I'm going to increase your amount of oxygen for a couple of minutes. Try to relax."

After increasing the amount of oxygen and allowing him to breathe it in, she disconnected the machine and carefully fed the soft catheter down the endotracheal tube.

The Lieutenant could see Murdock was anything but relaxed from the way he clutched the blanket at his sides and stared at him with terrified eyes. "Hang on, buddy. It won't take long and it'll be over," he encouraged from his viewing post.

Face winced as he heard the suctioning sound and saw the signs of respiratory distress in Murdock's expression. The nurse held her thumb over the hard plastic hole on the catheter and removed the catheter from the tube. The action took only ten seconds but it seemed so much longer to the conman.

The door to the room opened. B. A. nodded to the Lieutenant as he entered.

Holding his hand up, Face signaled B. A. to wait.

_He'll see what's going on soon enough._

"Let me listen again to your lungs," the nurse said and used the stethoscope. "We need to do this one more time. Your lungs still sound a bit bubbly."

She disconnected the ventilator again and squirted saline solution down the endotracheal tube. After allowing Murdock to get a few more breaths from the machine, she threaded the catheter back down the tube and applied the suction again. Reattaching the ventilator to the tube, she sterilized the catheter in saline solution.

Face thought he would be sick if she had to use the vacuum trap and suction again. His friend released the blanket and gripped the bed rails. His hands were trembling. His skin tone had paled two shades. She listened to his chest and finally smiled down at him.

"Now I need to suction the back of your throat and inside your mouth and get some of the build-up of mucus and saliva in there. Almost done, Mister McKilvery." Murdock closed his eyes and involuntary tears beaded at the corners.

Then she was done and stepped away to check the other tubes and record his vital signs. As quickly as she came in the room, she left without another word to the Lieutenant. She gazed wide-eyed at the Sergeant in the doorway before brushing past him.

"Excuse me." A petite lab technician squeezed past B. A. with a carrier which held supplies for drawing blood. The Sergeant gave Face a puzzled look but didn't give voice to his questions.

B. A. moved closer to Face as soon as the lab technician left the room with the blood sample she took from the patient.

Murdock saw the big man and tried to give him a weak smile. The pained grimace on his face drew B. A. closer until he absently sat in the chair and stared at the machines, then at the pilot's face. Stunned disbelief played across his features.

"Hey, fool." His voice was surprisingly soft. "How's it goin', man?" He frowned at the restraints. "You don' need those. You ain't gonna do anythin' crazy like run off while _I'm_ here, are ya?"

Murdock considered the sympathetic look on B. A.'s face before shaking his head. He glanced at his bound wrists and then at the Sergeant, his request obvious to both Face and B. A.

"Sorry, man. Gotta wait for the doc to okay that." Murdock stared at him with a pleading look, turning his head away slightly to the side when it was evident neither man would undo the restraints.

Face was sure the Sergeant needed time to process the Captain's medical condition before being left alone with him. He decided to stay with them for a while longer.

Maybe Doctor Freedman would pay his special patient an early visit while he was still there. At least the Lieutenant hoped so.

"So where's Cyndy? Truck's out in the lot. Figured she'd be here wit' you." B. A. turned his gaze on Face as he handed him the keys to the van.

The Lieutenant frowned before hurrying to the door. "She left two hours ago," he answered over his shoulder.

The Sergeant glanced at Murdock's panicked expression. The pilot tightened his fists, twisting his wrists in the restraints in a futile attempt to free himself.

"Two hours?" the black man repeated, realizing the implication of the words.


	76. Chapter 76 Captured

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 76 Captured

As McKeever left the single room lean-to on the isolated back pasture of the Murdock homestead, he felt sure she would be able to identify him. A soft muffled groan from the abandoned grain storage shed told him the young woman was awake and probably even now remembering what had happened to her.

The mounting number of witnesses he needed to silence was beginning to make him nervous. He once again considered making a quick run for the Mexican border instead of the more leisurely escape he planned to Canada as soon as his business was finished.

_Don' matter. If I read my son 'n' his friends right, they'll be lookin' fer her 'n' maybe leave either Winton 'r him 'lone. Only three o' 'em. Don' give 'em much manpower to keep an eye out fer th' two o' them 'n' look fer her, too. _

He shielded his eyes against the sun. It was going to be a sweltering day. Heat already caused the tin roof of the lean-to to shimmer.

_Maybe the heat'll take care o' her 'fore I have ta do anythin' myself. _

Taking one more look at the blindfolded, gagged and bound young woman lying on the dirt floor, he swung himself into the driver's seat of the Bronco. He needed to see where his son's friends went and if they left him an opportunity to finish his job.

oooooo

Relying on B. A. to watch Murdock, Face jumped into the van and got Hannibal on the mobile phone.

"Come on, Hannibal. Pick it up," he muttered under his breath. Steering out of the parking lot with one hand, something he knew the burly Sergeant would have problems with if he saw it, he went as quickly as the speed limit allowed through Beaumont.

He heard the yawn at the other end of the line as the Colonel picked up the phone in the Corvette. "Do you know what time of the morning it is, Lieutenant?" a weary annoyed voice demanded.

Face launched into the conversation without answering the question. "Cyndy's missing." As he said it, his insides churned with his distress over her disappearance.

"What do you mean, she's missing? Are you sure she isn't getting groceries and on her way back here?" Hannibal's tone was sharp and alert now that he knew.

"Her truck never left the hospital parking lot after she said good bye to me at four in the morning." The Lieutenant let his eyes wander back and forth up and down streets around the hospital. He realized the chances of seeing her out for a simple walk around the area was slim to none but he had to hope.

"McKeever." As Hannibal said the name, he glanced up to the loft where Winton peered down at him.

"Trouble, Smith?"

The Colonel glared and turned his back on him. To Face he added, "We can't go to the police and report a missing person. They wouldn't consider her missing yet. Asking the cast and crew to help in a search would put them in danger. Someone has to watch Murdock and Winton. Come back to the farm. We'll let B. A. continue watching Murdock and take Winton with us and start looking."

"For Cyndy?" Face gripped the steering wheel with one white-knuckled hand.

Hannibal removed a cigar from his pocket and bit the end off. Lighting it, he drew in the smoke before exhaling and answering. "For McKeever. It's the quickest way to find your girl."

oooooo

As soon as Doctor Freedman entered the room across the hall to examine Hollis Latreque, Murdock startled awake. He glanced with confused eyes toward the door and then at the watchful Sergeant.

"Easy, fool," B. A. breathed and reached through the side rails to pat his shoulder. "Doc'll let ya outta those restraints if ya show 'im you're not gonna rip the tubes out an' try to escape." The black man paused. "Look, I _know_ you're worried 'bout Cyndy. Even if you _was_ to have the breathin' tube out an' the restraints off, ya still can't go nowhere." If the situation with Cyndy wasn't such a serious matter, Murdock's pout would have almost been funny. "Face'll find her, man."

The pilot shook his head, his agitation growing. He rattled the side rails with his efforts to slip out of the restraints.

"Murdock." B. A. said his name in a low voice, demanding the injured man make eye contact. "You ain't gonna get nowhere doin' it that way. Sooner you get that through your fool head, the better."

At the sound of B. A. saying his name, the pilot stopped what he was doing. He stared at the Sergeant with such a penetrating angry look that the black man nervously shifted position in the chair.

_Crazy man still loves that girl. He'd do anythin' to get up an' help look for her. Loves Dani, too. Poor fool. _

Doctor Freedman knocked at the door and entered, a clipboard of papers in his hands. "Good morning, Mister . . . McGilvery. It's good to see you awake."

_Doc's makin' sure Murdock's alias ain't compromised. Good. Hope we can keep it that way. Don' need McKeever findin' him an' causin' trouble. _

Murdock turned his sullen gaze from B. A. to the doctor. Seeing the restraints, Doctor Freedman cleared his throat and pretended to examine the records which had been collected during the night on the pilot's progress.

"Your blood oxygen levels have increased to the degree I believe we can remove the endotracheal tube today. We'll begin weaning you from the machine in an hour or two. You'll have an oxygen mask on for a while after you're off the ventilator but as the mucus around your left lung is drained through the chest tube your breathing should improve. We'll also remove the heart monitor now that you're conscious. You'll have to keep the IV in so we can continue to give you antibiotics and feed you." The doctor consulted the clipboard as he told the two men what to expect. "When you no longer need the mask, we'll start you on soft foods and work up to solids."

Murdock peered at B. A. and raised his hand slightly.

"What 'bout the restraints, doc?" The pilot nodded a small "thank you" to the black man.

"Mister McGilvery is aware of his surroundings and responsive. He seems to be in control of his faculties. I see no reason why he should continue to be restricted in his movements." The doctor tapped the clipboard with a pen. "I'll have an orderly come in and remove the restraints as soon as possible."

Murdock closed his eyes for a moment in relief. B. A. noticed and patted him on the shoulder again.

"When the endotracheal tube is removed you may cough because of the irritation in your windpipe. You'll also find your voice is hoarse. I'll have someone bring you some ice chips in a cup." He looked at the Sergeant. "You can give him a spoonful of those off and on to help with the dryness in his mouth and throat."

Doctor Freedman turned to leave and then added, "You'll need to have another set of chest X-rays done later today. We want to know when the fluid around the left lung is gone and check how well the antibiotics are doing to fight the infection in the lungs."

"Thanks, doc." B. A. watched as the doctor nodded a good bye to the patient and left the room.

The Sergeant picked up the phone. "Gonna call Hannibal, let him know what doc said." He glanced at Murdock as he dialed. "Sure is good ta have ya back, fool."

oooooo

It had all happened so fast.

A man in a janitor's uniform passed by her as she paused at the door to her El Camino to fish her keys from her purse. She glanced at him but his face was in shadow. No one else was around.

Within seconds, a coarse bag of some kind was pulled down over her head. A strong arm snaked around her waist and a sharp edged blade touched her throat.

"Do anythin' funny 'n' yer boyfriend'll fin' yer bleedin' corpse in this parkin' lot. Got it?" As the man rasped the warning in her ear, she froze in place.

She whispered a soft "Yes" before he walked her over to his vehicle and lifted her into the seat. He forced her wrists behind her. She felt him apply several layers of what sounded like duct tape around them before shutting the door and climbing in beside her. Forcing her to lie down on the seat between them, her captor clamped something sickly sweet-smelling over her mouth and nose through the bag over her head and she fell asleep.

Cyndy woke and groaned. She heard a door slam and a truck engine start. As the sound of the truck moved away she tried to determine by what senses were available to her where her assailant had taken her.

She couldn't feel the sun on her but her face was resting against dirt. An occasional whirring sound of a grasshopper in flight told her she was near a field. She wriggled her way across the ground and stopped when her back came up against a wooden wall of some kind. Using the wall as support, she managed to sit up. Even though she was in some kind of building, the rising sun was already heating the space inside. Sweat trickled down her back from her efforts.

The smells of musty grain and rotting wood assaulted her nose. It was a smell both familiar and full of memories.

If she was correct, Murdock might know where to find her. But would he be in the condition to tell anyone?


	77. Chapter 77 An Ominous Dream

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 77 An Ominous Dream

A third nurse from Doctor Freedman's hand-selected trusted group came into the room to check Murdock's chest and endotracheal tubes, record his vital signs and remove the heart rate monitor pads from his chest, arms and legs. This nurse was young and slim like the night nurse and blonde with startlingly blue eyes.

An orderly accompanied her. As she removed three syringes from her pocket and began filling the first from a small vial, B. A. frowned at her.

"What ya givin' him?" He stood in the gap between the end of the privacy curtain and the window warily watching everything the two attendants did.

"This first one is clarithromycin. It's a macrolide antibiotic that'll fight the bacterial infection in his lungs. It's more of a broad spectrum antibiotic that suppresses protein synthesis and by doing that, prevents the growth of the bacteria causing the pneumonia." She injected the contents into the IV tube port and prepared the next syringe. "This is ciprofloxacin." Seeing B. A.'s confused gaze, she smiled. "It basically messes with the bacteria's DNA and prevents it from doing what it needs to do. The cells can't replicate if they don't have a blueprint to go by."

B. A. nodded. The second description was much easier to understand.

She cleared the port with a squirt of saline solution. After injecting the second dose of antibiotics, she filled a third syringe. "Doctor Freedman ordered a dose of lorazepam to calm Mister McGilvery while the endotracheal tube is removed. It may make him drowsy for quite a while."

The pilot shook his head at the nurse and tightened his grip on the side rails of the bed. With a single growl from the black Sergeant, he relaxed and resigned himself to his fate.

After she injected the third syringe's contents into the port, the orderly undid the soft restraints. The nurse checked Murdock's chest with the stethoscope. "I'm not hearing any gurgling sounds so I won't need to suction out your lungs."

All B. A. needed to do was look at the relieved expression on the pilot's face to know how bad that particular experience could be.

The nurse removed the heart rate monitor pads and wrote down his vital signs on a clipboard before motioning to the orderly to pull back the curtain."We'll be leaving you now. In about a half hour, someone with the respiratory department will be by to remove the endotracheal tube. That should make you feel much better, Mister McGilvery."

B. A. sat back down in the chair and watched Murdock fight to stay awake. Gesturing for a piece of paper and a pencil, he clenched his fists when the Sergeant refused.

"Best ta rest up 'fore they gotta take that tube out. Don' sound like it's gonna be fun." The black man crossed his arms.

Murdock reached for B. A. but he had leaned back in the chair so far he could not be touched. A dark, angry look appeared in the pilot's eyes.

"Get some sleep. I don' need to _read_ jibber-jabber anymore'n I want to _hear_ it. Not 'til I gotta anyway." B. A. scowled back.

The lorazepam began to take effect and despite the patient's best efforts to keep his eyes open, he closed them and went to sleep. Occasional tremors passed through his body as he slept and B. A. wondered what he could be dreaming that disturbed his sleep so much.

oooooo

_If I go ta sleep, I'll dream. If I dream, I'll see Pa. If I see Pa, he'll kill me for sure. _

The last thoughts Murdock had while his eyelids drooped shut were his first thoughts upon awaking on a path in the midst of a forest of red oak trees.

_If I go ta sleep, I'll dream. If I dream, I'll see Pa. If I see Pa, he'll kill me for sure. _

He felt Flyboy under him, the horse's gait a slow leisurely walk. They left the cool shade of the forest to emerge into the sweltering noon sun. A man bent over a shovel at the edge of the pasture. He already had a large rectangular hole dug. His white Ford Bronco was parked nearby.

_I know this place. _

Even as that thought came to his mind, Murdock knew he did _not_ want the man to turn around and he _did not_ want to look in the back of the truck even though the tailgate was open.

Flyboy raised his head high and snorted a warning. The man turned, his totally black soulless eyes staring straight at Murdock.

_I'm lookin' at Pa but it's like lookin' at Satan himself._

The images shifted in his dream. He lay on a dirt floor. Hay bales surrounded him on three sides. Looking up he could barely make out the corrugated tin roof above him. He curled up on the floor as his Pa kicked him once in the face and again in the ribs. Raising his arms up to shield his face, he felt the bone in his right forearm break from an especially hard blow. He tried to hum "This Old Man" but his throat was obstructed.

_He's gonna kill me this time. Ain' no way he's gonna let me live after seein' what I saw. _

Then he was being lifted to his feet and propped against a wall of hay. His nose and lip was bleeding, the blood dripping from his chin onto his brown plaid shirt. He saw the flash of the knife before he felt its searing length stab into his lower abdomen. Then his Pa pulled it out again, the pain of removal just as excruciating. He sank back to the ground as if dead.

The images shifted again. Cyndy was beside him in the old hay shed in the back pasture. She always knew exactly where to find him when he turned up missing. His head was in her lap. She pressed a cloth to the knife wound and wept over the impossible angle his right forearm was in. He wanted to tell her not to cry.

_Billy says it's gonna be alright, Buttercup. No more pain, no more tears. _

With another shift, it was no longer his body on the compacted earth of the shed. He sat with Cyndy's body draped across his lap, her lifeless eyes staring at him.

"_When I needed you most, you weren't there, H. M." _Her voice, so melodic and so sad, accused him though her lips remained closed in a soft pout.

He tried to take in a breath to yell her name . . .

. . . and jolted awake, his hands clutching the blankets.

"Mister McGilvery? I'm Sherry from the respiratory department. It's time to remove that endotracheal tube." The respiratory nurse paused to let him focus on her face. Murdock looked past her shoulder to B. A.

"Might be better ta let 'im wake up all the way, Miss Sherry," the black man suggested, his gaze taking in the anxious wide eyes of a man just coming out of a nightmare.

Murdock forced himself to relax, to look as normal as he could ever look in B. A.'s eyes.

He unclenched his fists and eased back into the pillow.

_Sooner I get that tube out, sooner I can tell B. A. I know exactly where Cyndy is. I hope they won't be too late. _

So he willed himself to appear like a calm, sane man fully awake and ready for whatever wretched thing had to be done to remove the breathing tube.

_Because she needs me. _


	78. Chapter 78Of Maneuvers,Tubes and Xrays

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 78 Of Maneuvers, Tubes and X-rays

"You'll have to leave the room for a few moments, sir." Sherry the respiratory therapist set her supplies on the overbed table and frowned. This can be a frightening experience for some patients. I may need to have two or three orderlies assist me." She turned a piercing eye on B. A. where he stood behind her. "And the space in the room is _limited_."

The Sergeant stood at the window. Noting the uneasy glances the pilot gave the technician and her assistants, he scowled.

"I stay," he rumbled. The corners of Murdock's mouth flickered up in a small smile and his eyes reflected his gratitude. He mouthed, "Thanks, B. A."

"Then at least stand out of the way." One of the orderlies pulled the privacy curtain all of the way around the bed, shutting off the black man's view of the procedure.

With an impatient jerk, B. A. pulled the curtain back enough for him to watch from the gap between the end of the curtain and the window. From where he lay, Murdock watched the dispute with a trace of amusement.

_Glad the mudsucker looks so threatenin' 'n' stands his groun'. Pa can't get ta me with B. A. here. He won' let 'im. Leas' not without a good fight, anyhow. _

The technician pulled on gloves, talking to her patient as she did. "You'll feel so much better once that breathing tube is out, Mister McGilvery. Are you ready?" Without waiting for an answer, she motioned for the orderlies to position themselves around the bed and carefully undid the tape that was loosely keeping the tube in place. As soon as her assistants took their places, she tipped Murdock's head slightly back, her hand around the tube, and pulled.

The Sergeant winced as Murdock's face contorted with the discomfort of the procedure. It lasted less than half a minute but at the end, B. A. found his fingernails digging into his own palms in empathy with the patient.

Curling onto his right side, the pilot coughed several times as soon as the tube was out. The coughs turned into retching but there was nothing to vomit up.

B. A. moved toward the bed, his face creased with worry. "He gonna be alright?"

"Gagging is a normal reaction to the tube being drawn through the vocal cords and sinuses. It'll pass." The technician checked the gauge on the CPAP machine while Murdock gained control over his coughing and sank back into the pillows. His face had paled and he seemed too weak to disagree with anything more the therapist would have to do.

She checked to make sure the straps were loose and slipped the triangular CPAP mask over Murdock's nose, passing the straps behind his head. Then she secured the straps and connected the hose to the CPAP machine. Checking the mask for leaks and finding none, she stepped back with a satisfactory smile.

"I'll have a nurse bring a cup of ice chips in." The technician collected the tubing and pulled off and disposed of her gloves. As an orderly wheeled the ventilator out of the room, she smiled again at Murdock. "By the way, I read that wonderful review you got in the Beaumont daily paper. I hope you can get back on stage this weekend. I've got tickets for the Saturday performance. Maybe you could autograph my program?"

At the mention of the review the patient frowned and glanced at the Sergeant. "Love to. Thanks, Miss Sherry," he forced out hoarsely as the young woman left the room. .

B. A. sank back down into the bedside chair and watched the pilot. Murdock closed his eyes and swallowed several times.

When he spoke, his voice rasped. "B. A., ya gotta tell Face somethin' for me."

The big man slipped his hand through the side rail slats and patted Murdock's arm. "Sure, fool. Anythin'. But after gettin' that tube out, don't you think you should wait? Get yer voice back?"

Murdock shook his head violently. "Can't wait. Ya gotta tell 'im _now_."

The morning nurse breezed in with a cup in her hand. "Here's some ice chips to help your throat feel better." She offered the cup to B. A. with a spoon. "Just a little bit at a time."

She offered the patient a sympathetic smile and drifted back out the door. The Sergeant poked at the ice chips with the spoon. "You want some of this right now?"

Murdock shook his head again. He pulled himself up into a sitting position in the bed. "I think I know where Pa took Cyndy. You gotta tell Faceman."

B. A. stared at the anxious brown eyes watching him and wondering if he was going to listen. He sighed and set the cup on the overbed table. Reaching for the phone, he dialed the number of the mobile phone in the van.

oooooo

When the phone rang, Face was speeding along Grayburg Road headed toward Sour Lake. Winton leaned back in the rear passenger seat while Hannibal palmed his gun and watched the white truck in the side passenger's mirror.

"This's too familiar, Smith." The ex-security guard shot an angry look at the Colonel.

"Yeah, well, you're the one McKeever wants so much. We _could_ let him _have_ you. Think of _that_ before you tell me how to do my business, Winton."

Hannibal picked up the phone. "Yes, Sergeant?" He listened for a few minutes. "That's next to impossible right now. McKeever's on our tail. We're going to try to ditch him and then double back to the farm." The Colonel glanced over at Face who was dividing his attention between the road and the conversation. "Stay with Murdock. McKeever must have figured out he's a patient at the hospital. He may try something there if we lose him."

Hannibal hung up the phone and leaned back. "Tell the Lieutenant where to turn, Winton. Unless you want to take the wheel like we did before."

The Colonel overheard mumbled curses coming from the backseat. Smiling, he reached for and pulled out a cigar, prepared and lit it.

They were passing through Grayburg. The residences and avenues were a blur on either side of them.

"Turn left here!" Winton shouted.

A quick jerk of the steering wheel put the van on Milholland heading west. Less than three minutes later, the ex-security guard yelled again. "Turn left!"

A short distance later, Face checked the side mirror and frowned.

"We seem to have lost our tail. Does it seem to you like he wasn't trying very hard to catch us?"

Hannibal glanced aside at his Lieutenant and then back at Winton. "Unless he was trying to draw us away from both the farm and the hospital." The Colonel reached for the mobile telephone. "Get us back to the farm as fast as you can, Face."

oooooo

The day nurse knocked at the door and poked her head in to smile at Murdock and B. A. "I'm supposed to bring you down to radiology, Mister McGilvery. It'll probably be a relief to get out of that bed for a while even if it is just to get some chest X-rays done."

She brought a wheelchair close to the bed and locked the brakes. Glancing at B. A. and his attention to what she was doing, she nodded a reassurance. "If you would like, you can either stay here in the room and wait or you can come along with us. I know you're concerned about him."

Murdock caught her look and with solemnity reflected in his brown eyes, rasped, "Oh, don' worry 'bout him. Ya see, we're Siamese twins. He goes _everywhere_ I go."

The Sergeant growled an irritated warning to the pilot. The nurse giggled at the joke and patted the big man's arm. Removing Murdock's CPAP mask, she turned off the machine. "This is only until we can get those X-rays. It goes back on as soon as you come back to the room."

Helping Murdock swing his legs over the side of the bed, she brought the water seal bottle to which the drainage tube was connected and the catheter bag to that side. "You tell me right away if you feel dizzy. Okay?"

B. A. had moved from the bedside chair to the far side of the wheelchair. He frowned as the patient closed his eyes and gripped the edge of the mattress.

The pilot breathed deeply and began to cough. Her left arm around his shoulders and her right hand holding his right hand, she waited until he had finished. Helping him over to the chair, she made sure he was comfortable before placing the drainage bottle in his lap. "This needs to remain below the level of your lungs at all times so the chest cavity will drain properly."

Removing the IV bag from its bedside hook and re-hooking it to a pole on the wheelchair and attaching the catheter bag to a separate place on the chair, she gave the two men a sympathetic smile. "I know it seems like a lot of bother but if the chest X-ray shows we got all of the fluid from around the lung, Doctor Freedman might have the chest tube removed. I know as soon as you are more mobile, you will have the catheter removed, probably even later today."

Murdock plastered a grin he didn't feel on his face and wheezed, "Well, if the big mudsucker's ready, I guess I'm ready to move. Forward ho!" He weakly punched the air ahead of them with an extended arm.

When they were halfway to the radiology department and outside of hearing distance, the room phone rang. It remained unanswered.


	79. Chapter 79 Time Constraints

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 79 Time Constraints

"Back to the farm, Hannibal? What about Murdock? McKeever's going back to the hospital, isn't he?" Face cast a grim look at the Colonel. "And what about your idea to have McKeever lead us to Cyndy?"

"We'll have to trust B. A. will stay with our Captain like glue and prevent anything from happening. I'll keep trying to contact him." The older man continued to stare out at the passing scenery of Millholland Road and added, "Murdock had another dream about his father. He's positive he knows where Miss Berquon may have been taken. There's an old hay storage shed in the back pasture near the spot where Beau Delton's grave is. She may be there."

The Lieutenant drew in a deep breath and exhaled in a frustrated sigh. "I guess it's worth checking out. Anything to find Cyndy safe and sound."

Hannibal shot a sharp glance at Face. There was no use telling the younger man the details of the dream as Murdock had told it to B. A. The pilot was alarmed enough from the sound of his agitated words in the background without unnecessarily worrying the Lieutenant as well.

He hoped they would find her there alive and well . . . for both Murdock's and Face's sakes.

oooooo

McKeever chuckled with the ease with which he was able to divert the black van. Like a game of cat and mouse with him being the cat. This was the third time he chased one of their vehicles. Sometime in the near future, the roles might be reversed.

Maybe.

He increased his speed along the Old Sour Lake Road. If he planned things right, he would get to the hospital in about twenty more minutes.

_All I gotta do is find some way ta distract whoever's watchin' my boy. _

While he hurtled along the old road, he took a cigarette from a pack stuffed in his shirt pocket and lit it with the truck's lighter.

He let the smoke curl around the tip for a moment and then drew in a long satisfied breath. Contemplating the cigarette in his hand, he smirked.

_Think I know how I can make it look like an accident. All I'll need is opportunity. _

oooooo

"You'll have to wait out here for your friend." The X-ray technician directed B. A. to the same waiting area as before. One quick glance showed the burly Sergeant the reading selection had not improved. Finally deciding on a two month old copy of _Sports Illustrated, _he sat back to consider the prospects of a Super Bowl trip for the Chicago Bears with Mike Ditka coaching, Jim McMahon quarterbacking and Walter Payton receiving.

The technician brought Murdock into the X-ray room. "We can do this one of two ways. If you feel able, I can have you stand for the X-rays. If not, you can lie down."

He shrugged and attempted a weak grin. "Whatever's easiest for you, darlin'."

The technician appraised him, observing the gauze bandages beside his eye and around his right wrist and the still noticeable bruising around his eye and temple. "It would be easier for me to have you stand up."

"Then that's what I gotta do." Murdock made sure the brakes were on and swayed to his feet, holding the drainage bottle and catheter bag. "Jus' tell me where ya want me."

The diminutive technician took the IV bag and led him to the X-ray machine. She hung the IV bag on a pole and drew up a stool on which to set the drainage bottle and catheter bag. Keeping both the pole and the stool on the other side of a lead screen which shielded the lower part of his body, she positioned the pilot with his chest and shoulders against the image recording plate and his hands on his hips. "Take as deep of a breath as you can and hold it," she instructed as she entered the activation room six feet away to take the X-ray.

He did as she asked. When she came back out to reposition him, he exhaled and brought his hand up to his mouth to stifle the coughs. "Sorry . . . can't . . . help it," he gasped.

"Take your time, Mister McGilvery. If you need to sit down for a few moments, you can." When he nodded, the young lady brought the wheelchair over to him to let him rest. He sat down heavily and shuddered with each wracking cough.

"Just tell me when you're ready." She walked around the room, putting a few things back in their proper locations, giving him time to recover.

"Ready." He forced himself to his feet and wobbled with the effort.

She looked at him again and shook her head. "Are you sure you don't want to lie down for the last two X-rays? It won't be as good but at least I know I won't have to catch you if you black out on me."

"Listen, lil' darlin', I don' wanna hafta come back down here 'gain 'cause the photos weren't any good. It's not 'cause you ain' pretty. You are. Jus' don' wanna make the trip 'gain." He paused, feeling out of breath.

A blush crept up into the technician's cheeks and she smiled at him. She wheeled the chair out of the way again. "Well, if you're ready, I'll have you raise your arms. We need to get two side views and then I'll have the nurse take you back to your room."

After positioning him, his left side facing the image recording plate, she had him inhale deeply again and hold his breath as she took the X-ray.

"Just one more." She turned him to the other side.

His lips twitched in a faint smile. "It's almost like I'm a burger bein' flipped side to side."

"I never looked at it that way. That's funny. I'll have to remember that." The technician giggled as she went back to her post. "Now breathe deep and hold it."

Murdock did as he was instructed, his face beginning to pale with the amount of time he had been on his feet.

"Okay, Mister McGilvery. Those X-rays look good. Just wait and I'll get that wheelchair for you." She glanced at him as she finished in the activation room.

"Sorry, darlin', but I . . . gotta . . . " He stumbled halfway to the chair, then collapsed. The IV ripped from his arm and the drainage bottle and catheter bag fell to the floor.

"Mister McGilvery!" The technician hurried to the call button on the wall and, when the nurse answered, said, "I need assistance here! I have a patient passed out on the floor."

oooooo

Sunlight filtered through the gaps between the boards of the hay storage shed. Temperatures were promising to top ninety degrees, a little above average for an August day.

Cyndy's head throbbed with pain. She felt like she could throw up and panicked when she realized that if she did she could very well choke on her own vomit. She tried to shift herself into a more comfortable sitting position. Even though she was blindfolded, there was a sensation of everything spinning around her. It was only a matter of time before the symptoms of heat exhaustion would develop into heat stroke.

She thought of the many times she found Murdock here, half-hidden behind the bales of hay, bloodied, bruised and unconscious from another beating. Why his father always brought him here she never figured out.

_H. M., if you can remember this place, please send someone to rescue me. If you don't, I'm going to die. _

She bent her head forward over her knees and willed herself not to cry. Alternating her thoughts between Murdock and Face, she forced herself to remain focused and alert until someone found her.


	80. Chapter 80 Rescue and Opportunity

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 80 Rescue and Opportunity

"B. A. said Murdock told him you can get to the pasture by an access road just before you get to the farm driveway. Keep your eyes peeled." Hannibal punched in the number for Murdock's room again and once more let it ring several times. "Damn! Still nothing."

"Didn't B. A. tell you Doctor Freedman ordered chest X-rays for today? Maybe they're in radiology?" Face cast a solemn look at Hannibal. Deep in thought, the Colonel hung up and watched the roadside.

"Wouldn't take this long."

Winton leaned in from the back seat. "Maybe yer boy took a turn fer the worst."

Hannibal's blue eyes burned with anger as he turned in the seat and reached for the man's shirt. Dragging him across the distance between seats, the Colonel pulled Winton to within a few inches of his face. "You'd better pray that isn't the case, Winton, or I'll make _sure_ McKeever knows _exactly_ where you are. I may even leave him a gun to finish the job."

The ex-security guard gave him an impassive calculating stare. "Remember. I know who you are."

"I didn't forget," Hannibal growled, releasing and shoving him backwards. "But if my man is dead, all bets are off."

Face slowed and peered down an old haying road with stands of trees on either side of it. "Think this is it, Hannibal?"

The Colonel squinted at the ruts, the grass and weeds recently trampled. "Well, someone's been down that way in the past twenty-four hours."

The Lieutenant nodded and centered the van on the overgrown road. Taking it carefully over fallen rotting branches, they soon came to a pasture full of yellow buttercups and brown millet. A graying wood board shed stood ten feet from the tree line and haying road. Waves of heat radiated off the corrugated tin roof. The shed had no door.

At first glance the single room structure appeared to be empty. Face parked the van and ran the short distance before Hannibal could get out of the vehicle.

"She's here, Hannibal! Hurry!" He had disappeared inside the building and poked his head around the doorframe, frantically gesturing toward the older man.

"You stay here and be ready to move to the back." The Colonel glared at Winton before striding through the wildflowers and tall grasses to the door of the shed.

The Lieutenant knelt on the dirt floor, tugging the blindfold off Cyndy's eyes and removing the gag from her mouth. Her eyes were closed and her breaths came in short, rapid pants. Hannibal removed a black glove and put two fingers under her jaw, feeling for a pulse. He glanced at Face's anxious questioning expression.

"Her heart is racing. I wouldn't be surprised if her temperature wasn't above one hundred." The older man squatted beside the woman and gently laid his hand across her hot, dry forehead.

"We've got to get her to the hospital, Colonel." Face undid the rope binding her wrists and ankles. Getting to his feet and bending at the knees to lift her, he carefully cradled her in his arms. She murmured something soft and huddled against him.

"Put her on the floor in the back, Lieutenant. I'll drive." Hannibal took another look around the hay shed, remembering B. A. telling him the reason Murdock sent them there. He shook his head, wondering again how a man like McKeever could hate his own son so much.

oooooo

McKeever watched from the open utility closet as a nurse and orderly wheeled a gurney past with an unconscious Murdock on it. His arm had a wadded piece of gauze taped to it and the catheter bag and drainage bottle rested beside him. A second orderly carried the IV bag and tubing.

Peering in the direction they had come from, McKeever smirked when he realized none of his son's friends were following. The room had been empty when he passed earlier. He busied himself collecting together supplies and placing them in the janitor cleaning cart. Out of his peripheral vision, he kept an eye on his son's room.

_Gonna be real soon, boy. Yer never gonna tell anyone what happened to Delton._

The two orderlies left the room first, one pushing the gurney back to the radiology department. After a few minutes, the nurse followed.

Taking one more cautious glance around the hospital corridors, McKeever closed the closet door and trundled the janitor cleaning cart toward his son's room.

oooooo

B. A. tossed the _Sports Illustrated _magazine onto the table with the other books and magazines and stood. Frowning, he began to pace up and down in the room, ignoring the curious looks of the other people waiting for patients.

_Shouldn'ta taken this long for the fool's X-rays. _

A nurse came in the room. "Mister Tellman? Your wife's done in radiology and we're ready to take her back to her room. If you would follow me."

A short balding man with glasses stood and tucked the newspaper he was reading under his arm.

B. A. strode toward the nurse. "I've been waitin' here for a buddy of mine to get outta X-ray close ta thirty minutes or more. Know anythin' 'bout that?"

The nurse's eyes widened as she surveyed him from mohawk-like haircut to the gold around his neck. "I think he's been taken back to his room," she stammered. "Let me check for you. If you would wait here . . . Mister Tellman, your wife is waiting just outside the door. I'll check on this and be back to take you and her to her room." The nurse smiled nervously and left.

In a few minutes she was back, a soft apologetic tone to her voice. "Mister McGilvery was taken back to his room several minutes ago. I am _so_ sorry. When he collapsed, things got a little chaotic. We forgot you were waiting for him."

"Collapsed?" The Sergeant stared at her dumbfounded for a few seconds before slamming the door open and rushing from the room.

oooooo

Hannibal turned the air conditioning on in the van as cold as he could get it and sped toward the Beaumont emergency room. "How's she doing back there, Lieutenant?"

Face sat on the floor behind the driver's seat, Cyndy propped up against him, her back against his chest. She had not opened her eyes. "How do you think she is? She's been out in the heat in an enclosed space for how many hours?" The younger man didn't mean for his tone to be so hard. He stroked her forehead and noted her flushed hot skin.

"Wet down a handkerchief and start wiping down every inch of exposed skin on her body. Loosen her clothing, too. Now isn't the time for modesty. Then use that newspaper and fan her. Keep doing that until we get to the hospital, Face. Try to get her to drink some water." Hannibal tossed the orders over his shoulder as he kept his eyes on the road.

Face laid her gently on the floor and knelt beside her. He uncapped a bottle of water and attempted unsuccessfully to get Cyndy awake enough to drink some of it. She pushed his hands away.

"What do you think I'm trying to do, Hannibal?" The younger man unbuttoned the young woman's blouse. He swabbed Cyndy's face, neck, stomach and arms with the moist handkerchief, then directed air on her with the improvised fan.

Her eyelids fluttered and she gazed up at him. Her eyes were dull and unfocused. "H. M. showed you where I was." Her lips quivered. "I thought I was going to die."

"Not if I can help it, Angel." The Lieutenant continued to apply wet compresses to her bare skin. "Not if I can help it."


	81. Chapter 81 McKeever's Plan

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 81 McKeever's Plan

The lights in Murdock's room were off except for the fluorescent light above the bed where he lay. Before leaving him to rest, the nurse closed the window curtains to allow the room to be as dark as possible. Daylight still leaked in around the top and bottom of the curtains, creating a semi-gray atmosphere.

She had re-introduced the IV into his arm, reinserted the catheter which had torn out in the fall and placed him back on the CPAP machine. The catheter bag and drainage bottle were back in their places hooked onto the bed frame and on the floor beside the bed. A quick X-ray, this time done while he was lying on the table, showed the chest drainage tube had not moved.

McKeever left the janitor cleaning cart in the hallway outside and entered the room, closing the door quietly behind him. For a moment he stood at the end of the bed and looked down at his son.

Murdock's eyes were closed in sleep. His chest gently rose and fell with his soft breathing. The gauze around the wrist and some of the fingers and the crude line of stitches in the gash beside the eye drew the janitor's attention. He wondered how the injuries and the bruises around the eye came about and then decided it didn't matter.

_Sure grown up a lot. Didn' notice last time I saw 'im. But then, I was facin' 'im down wit' a pitchfork in 'is hands. _

McKeever's mind went back to the boy's mother and how beautiful she looked on their wedding day. The boy had inherited his slender build and hair color from his mother and his height from his father. The boy's eyes, as he remembered them, were the same color and shape as his own.

_Those eyes. Never were hateful t'ward me, even when I beat him so bad he couldn' stand up proper. _

Those eyes. Sad, reflective, pleading, confused, fearful, accusatory, angry, but never hateful. The thought almost made McKeever feel ashamed of what he had done over the years to the boy. _Almost_.

But that wasn't the only thing young Murdock inherited from his father.

_Harley McKeever Murdock. H. M. Murdock. I hated her fer callin' 'im that. Rubbed my nose in our divorce wit' that one. 'N' Beau Delton 'n' her bastard baby boy sealed the deal. _

His hand strayed to the old scar on his thigh where four-year-old H. M. jabbed him with the pitchfork to get him away from his mother. His lips pulled back in an angry grimace.

_Boy should never've interfered. _

McKeever pulled his thoughts back to the present.

_Key is ta make it look like an accident, like the boy done it to himself. _

Removing his pack of cigarettes and a book of matches from a pocket of his uniform, the janitor took out one and placed the half-empty pack on the bed beside Murdock's right hand. Sticking the cigarette in his own mouth, McKeever lit it and inhaled once.

Satisfied that the tip was glowing, he stuck the filter end of it between the pointer and middle fingers of Murdock's right hand. He placed the book of matches on Murdock's chest and positioned the hand with the smoldering cigarette beside the matches. The tube leading from the mask to the machine was near both.

So intent was McKeever on orchestrating the "accident" that he did not notice the door open and a muscular black man enter the room.

"What you doin', man?" B. A. assessed the scene and growled as he approached the bed.

"Smelled smoke comin' from in here. Poked my head in, saw this guy nod off ta sleep with a cigarette in 'is hand. Stupid stunt, smokin' wit' a machine like this goin'." McKeever looked up at the Sergeant. His hand was still poised over the lit cigarette. He hoped it looked like he was trying to remove it.

"Fool don' smoke. Never has. Who _are_ you?" B. A. took a threatening step toward the older man and raised one fisted hand.

"Jus' a janitor here. Maybe ya don' know yer friend as well's ya _ think_ ya do." Murdock's father took a deep breath and a chance and sidestepped around the burly black man. Before B. A. could respond, McKeever disappeared out the door. He heard the sound of a cleaning cart being wheeled away before the smoke from the cigarette drifted his way and he reacted.

B. A. grabbed the cigarette from Murdock's fingers and doused it under running water, cursing himself for not being there and for allowing the janitor to escape so easily. When he turned back to the bed, two brown eyes were staring in confusion at the pack of cigarettes and book of matches.

"B. A.?" The patient's raspy weak voice was laced with apprehension and puzzlement.

"Think I jus' met your father," the Sergeant answered, approaching the bedside and pocketing the two items. "'N' he better hope I don' meet 'im again."

oooooo

Hannibal handed the phone back to Face halfway to the Beaumont hospital. "Call Doctor Freedman and Mrs. Bartleman and have them meet us at the hospital. And try calling Murdock's room again."

Face wet down the handkerchief and placed it across Cyndy's forehead before dialing Doctor Freedman and Mrs. Bartleman and giving them the Colonel's instructions.

He waited a few seconds after calling B. A. before there was an answer. "Yeah, B. A.?" Face shot Hannibal a thumbs-up signal. The Colonel gave a short sigh of relief.

"You can tell Murdock he was right. We found Cyndy. Don't let Murdock know but Cyndy needs some medical attention. I think it's heat stroke. " A few minutes of silence passed before Face picked up the conversation. "Well, at least one of us knows what McKeever looks like now."

Hannibal gave the Lieutenant a sharp glance in the rear view mirror.

"Yeah, I'll tell the Colonel. We're on our way. Stay with him." Face hung up the phone. Returning to Cyndy and fanning her with the newspaper, his expression was formidable as he told Hannibal what B. A. had related over the phone.

"Our friend McKeever tried to ignite Murdock while he was unconscious in bed. He's either _posing as_ or _is_ a janitor at the hospital."

Hannibal forced out one word. "How?"

"A lit cigarette, a book of matches and the rich oxygen supply that CPAP machine delivers. If B. A. hadn't arrived just in time, Murdock would have been the Human Torch." Face grimaced at the thought. Remembering the janitor who helped in restraining the pilot when he first woke, the Lieutenant let out a small groan. _No wonder he was so helpful. _

"Why wasn't B. A. with him?" The Colonel's angry question startled Face for a moment. When he looked up, Hannibal's gaze had turned icy.

"They wouldn't let him in the X-ray room. Hospital policy and too much gold around his neck. Murdock passed out and they forgot about B. A. until after they returned Murdock to his room."

"Policy or no policy, I'm going to have a talk with Doctor Freedman and make sure Murdock _always_ has one of us with him. No more opportunities for McKeever." Hannibal thought for a moment and glanced back at Winton. He gave Face a wide grin. "Unless we're the ones to stage it."

"What's he mean by that?" The ex security guard frowned at the driver before turning his gaze on the conman.

Face watched Hannibal gain a mischievous twinkle to his eye, the first he had since Winton came under their protection. The Colonel reached for a cigar. "It means he's got a plan."


	82. Chapter 82 A Visit With Latreque

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 82 A Visit With Latreque

Mrs. Bartleman pulled into the Beaumont hospital parking lot. A few minutes later, Hannibal maneuvered the black van close to the emergency room entrance. Clutching her purse under her arm, she hurried toward the Colonel as he opened the side door.

Only briefly looking up as the theater owner approached, Face continued to swab Cyndy's flushed face and body with a wet handkerchief. She was semi-conscious, murmuring things under her breath, seeming not to be aware of the Lieutenant's presence.

Paling at the sight, Mrs. Bartleman gripped Hannibal's arm. "What do you need me to do?"

The Colonel cast a grim gaze at Face and Cyndy. "Go into the emergency and find Doctor Freedman. He said he'd be here when we arrived. He knows the situation. Then stay with Miss Berquon as she's treated. Help with the paperwork. I'll send someone over to check on you in about a half hour."

"Where will you be?" Mrs. Bartleman looked up into Hannibal's face, thankful for his take-charge manner.

"There's been an attempt on Captain Murdock's life." The Colonel noted the small gasp that escaped the older woman's mouth.

"He isn't . . . I mean . . . " She covered her mouth with her hand as she stared at him in shock.

"No. He's safe for now." Hannibal patted the theater owner on the shoulder. "I'll be taking over for B. A. in Murdock's room. We know who tried to kill him and, trust me, he will _not_ get another chance. Now please go find Doctor Freedman so Miss Berquon can be treated." He watched as she scurried toward the emergency room doors.

Two minutes later Mrs. Bartleman came out with the doctor. Two orderlies followed with a gurney.

Face waited for the men to lift Cyndy onto the gurney before he climbed out. As the orderlies strapped her down, he cupped Cyndy's cheek in his hand, leaned over her and kissed her forehead. A faint smile flickered across her lips before her features relaxed again.

"Drive the van to the parking lot and wait for B. A. to come out." Hannibal muttered the orders to Face before walking around the outside of the building to the exit where Murdock's and Latreque's rooms were located.

He needed to have a small dialogue with Hollis Latreque before relieving B. A.

oooooo

McKeever was cleaning the restroom in the emergency waiting room. It was part of his normal duties. More than that, it ensured the big black man who stopped him in the act of staging Murdock's "accident" would not continue to be suspicious. At least he hoped he wouldn't.

While in the bathroom, he removed the small flask of vodka from his uniform pocket and tipped a little into his mouth. He gasped at the bite of the shot. It wasn't his drink of choice but it was less likely to be smelled on his breath. Just to be sure, he popped a breath mint into his mouth.

When he stepped out to toss the full plastic waste can bag into the receptacle on the back of the janitor cleaning cart, Mrs. Bartleman appeared at the emergency desk. Curiosity getting the better of him, McKeever grabbed a cleaning cloth and focused his attention on removing the magazines from a nearby table and wiping down the table top.

As he rearranged the magazines, bits and pieces of the conversation she was having with the desk nurse drifted his way.

_So someone found my boy's girlfriend after all. 'Nother loose end ta take care of. _

He considered again the possibility of escaping to Mexico without leaving a forwarding address and then thought of his son. That was one loose end he _insisted _on taking care of before leaving. Not just because his son could implicate him in the murder of Beau Delton. He knew Winton was a better witness than Murdock. His was a twisted sort of revenge against his deceased ex-wife and her parents, one that he had nursed for over twenty years. It was a revenge both irrational and insatiable. It _would be_ satisfied.

oooooo

Hannibal paused outside the room across from Murdock's and heard the television blaring. Bob Barker was asking another contestant on _The Price Is Right_ to spin The Big Wheel to determine if she would be the one to advance to the Showcase. He knocked and was greeted with a bored "Yeah? What is it?"

The Colonel walked in and closed the door behind him. "Mister Latreque, we need to talk."

"I 'member you. Yer the one that took care o' me when Winton shot me." Latreque shifted position and pressed the button control to raise the head of the bed so he could sit up.

"That's right. You were in a lot of pain. How are you feeling now?" Hannibal cautiously chose his words. He wanted the man to focus on that memory, to see him as a friend.

Hollis narrowed his eyes. "You were onstage that night. Yer friends with H. M. Murdock, ain'tcha." The last was spat out as a statement, not a question.

"He and I served in Nam together. But he isn't the reason for my visit." The Colonel drew up a chair. "Mind if I sit?"

"Can I stop ya?" Latreque snorted. He turned off the television and waited with his good arm pillowing his head.

_That's a good sign. It means he wants to hear what I have to say. _

"The way I see it, you have two people in your life that have caused you a lot of misery. H. M. Murdock is not one of them." Hannibal paused to let the last sentence sink in.

He scrutinized the younger man's expression. Latreque's features contorted with skepticism and then anger.

"His Pa . . . "

" . . . killed your father. I know. He knows that, too. You realize Murdock's father tried to kill _him_ three times since he's been back, didn't you? McKeever buried him alive in one of those attempts." The Colonel saw Hollis flinch and his eyes flicker down to the crisp white sheet and back up again.

_I wonder how much he knew about those attempts. _

"Pa had us find McKeever ta mess with H. M. but I didn' think it meant he wanted 'im dead. He said he wanted McKeever ta finish the job he started twenty years 'go." Latreque paled as he realized the import of what his father had said. "I'm no murderer." Hollis focused on Hannibal's eyes and repeated, "_I'm no murderer._"

_Good. He knows he could be in serious trouble. It's time to drive the point home._

"There's an entire cast and crew who witnessed you attack Murdock with a prop sword and a real sword on two occasions and force him out of the theater at gunpoint. At the very least, that's assault with a deadly weapon and false imprisonment. I think Murdock has become so well-liked among those people that any one of them would testify to what you did." The Colonel leaned back and waited.

"H. M. ain' said nothin' to the cops yet. Nobody else has either. 'N' they're lookin' for Winton." Hollis smirked, a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

Hannibal thought about telling Latreque that Murdock was in the hospital.

_But right now, he wouldn't care. _

The older man ignored the challenging statements. "I also happen to know you confirmed the report Mrs. Bartleman gave the police: that you were Winton's intended target and not Murdock. Why?" Hannibal's gaze bored through the patient and made him turn away.

"Pa's dead. Been so focused on that, the other stuff don' seem ta matter much anymore. Still don' mean Murdock 'n' me're buddies. Jus' figured there were reasons fer the lie." Hollis shrugged but the effort was half-hearted.

"Winton tried to get you to kill Murdock on stage with that antique sword and implicated you when the two of you forced Miss Berquon and Murdock out to the parking lot. McKeever killed your father." The Colonel paused until Hollis made eye contact. "Seems to me, your two _real_ enemies are Winton and McKeever, _not_ Captain H. M. Murdock. If you want to see them brought to justice, I have a plan. Are you interested? Or do you want to let them go free while you continue to try to bully a decorated veteran Nam pilot who has moved on from your high school years together? Your choice."

The two men stared at each other before Hollis sighed with resignation. "What's yer plan?"


	83. Chapter 83 A Good Review

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 83 A Good Review

Even before Hannibal opened the door to Murdock's hospital room, he heard the deep rumble of B. A.'s voice. The subject matter became evident as the Colonel listened closely at the door.

"'Never has this reviewer see or heard the role of Hotspur delivered with such passion and consummate professionalism as on the opening night of _Henry IV Part I _at the Nederland Community Theater. The sword fight in Act 5, Scene 4, between native son Evan Dunlow as Prince Henry and Henry Michael McGilvery as Hotspur was especially believable. Both restless and energetic, the choreography was perfectly done so that when Hotspur delivered his famous death speech, the audience sat literally on the edges of their seats. McGilvery gives the character a fiery intensity befitting the nickname Hotspur.

Because opening nights do not always predict the manner in which the rest of the performances will go, I returned to the theater two nights later. In contrast, the same role of Hotspur done by an understudy to Mr. McGilvery lacked the luster of the first performance. The delivered lines failed to rouse the emotions and the swordplay seemed clumsy and sluggish. This reviewer extends well wishes for a speedy recovery to Mr. McGilvery, taken ill and being treated in a Beaumont hospital. Your audience eagerly awaits the return of the real Hotspur to the stage.'"

"Those were real nice words 'bout me but he was kinda rough on the Colonel. I mean, Hannibal's got a lot more actin' 'sperience than me. 'N' he does good in those Aquamaniac, Gatorella and Killgator movies. I think I've seen jus' 'bout every one o' them."

Hannibal observed that Murdock's voice had lost its hoarse quality even though his speech was partially distorted by the CPAP mask. He smiled with a feeling of pleased surprise at the pilot's tone of admiration.

_I never knew he kept such good track of the movies I did._

"I jus' _read_ the review to you. I didn' _write_ it." B. A. added, "It's a sore spot with Hannibal so don' rub it in. Jus' thought you'd like to hear it."

"I 'ppreciate that, Big Guy. I'll keep my lips sealed 'round the Colonel. Jus' thankful he was able to take over for me." A trace of sadness crept into Murdock's voice. "He might hafta finish out the mission for me."

"Don' wanna hear that sorta fool jibber-jabber. You gonna get better an' get back up there on that stage. Got that?" B. A. sounded threatening but Hannibal sensed a degree of uncertainty and genuine concern.

_Murdock's getting better. He has to know he is. So why is he still saying things like that? Time to make my presence known. _

As he opened the door, he heard Murdock's response. "That's if my Pa don' get me first."

"Course he ain' gonna get you, fool. Not with us takin' turns watchin'." B. A. shifted nervously. Noticing the Colonel at the doorway, the Sergeant cast an uneasy glance his way.

"He found a way to get to me _twice_ already." The statement was said in a quiet tone. "I wanna get outta here. I wanna go back out to the farm. Don' wanna die here. Can't hear Billy while I'm in here." Murdock raised his voice and when the Colonel came nearer to the bed, he carelessly pulled himself up into a sitting position. "Get me outta here, Hannibal. Don' care how you do it. _Jus' do it._"

Hannibal tried to keep his own voice calm and reassuring even though Murdock's tone had escalated to near panic. "You still have the chest drainage tube, the IV and the CPAP mask." The catheter had been removed, the Colonel noticed.

The pilot's angry gaze flashed down at his chest and arm. He grasped at the drainage tube and was stopped when B. A.'s hand encircled his wrist. "Don' even _think_ it, crazy man."

Murdock shot a murderous look at the Sergeant and gripped the tube tighter, yelping with pain when the black hand squeezed his wrist harder. "Talk some sense inta this fool, Hannibal."

The man in the bed violently twisted his arm to attempt to escape his grasp. When he found he couldn't, he glared at B. A. "I wanna see Cyndy. See she's alright for myself."

The Colonel sighed internally. He had expected the question but was not ready to give any information that would further agitate the pilot."If you can hang in there for just a while longer, Captain, I have a plan. But it will require you to give the performance of your life. Then you can see Cyndy." Hannibal watched as Murdock focused his eyes on him and loosened his hold.

He could see the words visibly pierce the anxiety the younger man was expressing and relax him. Moments later, a small frown appeared on Murdock's face, then the beginnings of doubt. "I'm all ears, Colonel. But please tell me your plan'll actually work exactly how ya lay it out this time. I gotta feelin' there's no room for error with this one."

oooooo

Face muttered under his breath and tapped a beat on the steering wheel as he imaptiently waited for B. A. to leave the hospital and take over watching Winton. All the Lieutenant could think about was what Cyndy looked like when they found her and her condition all of the way to the hospital.

He had observed men in basic training succumb to heat exhaustion when they were on miles-long marches toting full combat gear. Cyndy's symptoms were worse than any he had ever seen before.

Face needed to get into that emergency waiting room and find out firsthand what Doctor Freedman was going to do to help her.

"She didn' look so good, did she?" Winton spoke from the back seat, a trace of mock sympathy in his tone. "I take it ya stole 'er from _both_ Latreque 'n' the Murdock boy."

The Lieutenant stopped tapping and gripped the wheel instead. His teeth clenched as he made himself remain silent.

"Gotta han' it to McKeever. He's a stubborn one. He won' stop 'til that _boy_ in there's dead." Winton leaned back and chuckled.

"That _boy_ you refer to was the best damn Huey pilot we had over in Nam. It takes a _man_ to have done the things he did. Takes a _real man_ to survive as one of the highest ranking officers in a POW camp."

"So ya say."

An uneasy silence filled the van. When Face saw B. A. leave the hospital through the rear exit, he was more than ready to let the Sergeant take over. He almost hoped Winton would try something with the muscular black man.

"Hannibal says to ask the doc to pay him a visit in Murdock's room soon as he can. Needs to tell him somethin'. Needs to brief you on the plan soon as you're done checkin' on your girl." B. A. waited for Face to climb out of the driver's seat. The Lieutenant cast a dark glance toward the back of the van. "He causin' trouble?"

"Let me just give you permission to shut him up whatever way you want if he shoots off his mouth too much. I'm going to be glad when this mission is over." Face swept his hand through hius hair as he stalked off.

B. A. glanced at the retreating Lieutenant and then at Winton in the van. He growled a warning as he got in.


	84. Chapter 84 Dreams and Near Deaths

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 84 Dreams and Near Deaths

"She's lucky you got her here when you did. I've prescribed chlorpromazine to reduce the amount of shivering while we bring her body temperature back to normal." Doctor Freedman glanced from Face to Mrs. Bartleman. "It'll relax her muscles. Shivering raises the body temperature. It's counter-productive."

The theater owner sighed and whispered, "Thank God she's still alive."

The Lieutenant gripped the doctor's arm and stared directly into his eyes. "What are you doing to help her?"

"Some doctors prescribe immersing the patient in cold or ice water. That lowers the temperature fairly quickly. It isn't very pleasant for the patient. Others place ice packs on the neck, armpits, groin and other places on the body and wrap the patient up in cooling blankets. It's effective, too."

"So how are you getting Cyndy's body temperature down? And can I be with her?" Face drew his hand away and put both hands on his hips.

"You can't see her right now. The treatment I have prescribed involves lukewarm mists to be sprayed on her bare skin and then warm air blown over the moistened areas. When the water evaporates, it brings the skin temperature down. She had such a high body temperature . . ."

"Well, then when canI see her?" Face ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it.

Doctor Freedman frowned and shook his head. "We're monitoring her internal temperature. When it dips back to around 103 degrees Fahrenheit, we'll assign her to a room, hopefully close to where Mister Latreque and your friend are. But the chlorpromazine will make her sleepy. She may not respond very much to you for a while." The doctor turned to go but the Lieutenant stepped in front of him to stop him.

"She has to stay in the hospital?"

"Only until we determine there has been no internal damage and after we rehydrate her. If all goes well, she should be able to leave the hospital sometime late tomorrow."

The Lieutenant nodded, a dazed look in his eyes. The thought of internal damage hadn't occurred to him. He hardly recognized Mrs. Bartleman's firm grasp on his upper arm and her gentle guidance toward the row of vinyl waiting room chairs. "The doctor will make sure we know when we can see her. Until then, we have to be patient."

Face remembered Hannibal's instructions as the doctor neared the emergency room door. "Doctor Freedman?" He broke away from Mrs. Bartleman. Standing close enough to mutter in his ear, the Lieutenant told the doctor of Hannibal's need to talk to him. The doctor narrowed his eyes and nodded but said nothing more. Face watched as he swung the door to the emergency cubicles open and disappeared through it.

He returned to the chair beside Mrs. Bartleman and plopped down with a sigh.

_Hannibal will have to brief me later. Hope he can spare me for awhile. I'm not moving until I can see Cyndy and know she's going to be alright. _

Picking up a recent copy of _Barron's, _he distractedly read the same page for the next half hour over and over again.

oooooo

The last thing she remembered that she _knew_ was real was Temp cupping her cheek in the palm of his hand and stooping over to kiss her lightly on the forehead. His hand cooled her face briefly and she tried to smile for him.

_He's so worried. Did H. M.'s condition get worse? _

She had to know but the nurses and orderlies attending to her were tight-lipped and all business. Her words came out as faint but frantic murmurs. They offered her no new information.

She felt a pin prick in her arm. Her clothes were removed and a chilled sheet was wrapped tightly around her. She fought to stay awake

Cyndy drifted from a pleasant dream to an unpleasant vision and back again. Temp stood before a church altar, H. M. beside him, both men looking toward her, both men dressed in formal attire.

Murdock grinned, his expression full of happiness for her and the groom. There was a trace of wistful regret in his eyes. He hid it so well that if she didn't know him as well as she did, she wouldn't have noticed at all.

Temp's reaction was something she hadn't expected. She could see his legs quivering through the fine fabric of the tuxedo pants. He smiled but the effect was ghastly. His pale skin tone and fixed stare was not the look she had thought her soon-to-be husband would have on their wedding day.

The church walls melted around her and instead of Temp and H. M. waiting for her, she saw Hollis Latreque and Harley McKeever both leering with satisfaction as her feet involuntarily brought her closer to them. The walls around her turned into the frame of the old hay shed. She screamed, or tried to, but it came out as a moan.

She felt a fine mist moistening her body, then semi-warm currents of air passing over, under, around her.

Her dream world shifted again. She and H. M. wandered hand in hand across a field of brown millet and buttercups. When he stopped and tilted her chin up to kiss her, she closed her eyes and smiled.

oooooo

Doctor Freedman knocked at the door to Murdock's room and entered when he heard the patient answer with a "Come on in."

Hannibal sat very near the bed and stood when he saw the doctor.

"You wanted to see me?" Freedman glanced at the Colonel and then analyzed the general physical condition of his patient with one look. "You seem to be breathing much better. I've looked at those X-rays we took this morning. We can remove that chest drainage tube whenever you're ready."

The pilot grinned his appreciation. "I'm ready right now. Hear that, Colonel? One down, two more things ta go."

Hannibal smiled indulgently at the Captain's enthusiasm. "I was wondering about Hollis Latreque. How soon before he's able to leave the hospital?"

"I would like him to receive some physical therapy as soon as he can to keep that shoulder from freezing up but he _can_ be released any time."

"Good. He's agreed to take care of some business for me as soon as he can leave here."

"Asking about Hollis Latreque is not the only reason you wanted me to come and see you." Doctor Freedman stated it as a fact and waited for the response.

"Murdock can not have the chest drainage tube removed quite yet."

The pilot stared at Hannibal in disbelief. His mouth gaped open and he whined, "But Colonel!"

Hannibal's eyes had an "on the jazz" twinkle as he grinned at first the doctor and then Murdock. "You can't look in too good of shape when you suffer a relapse and die on Thursday."


	85. Chapter 85 Stick to the Plan

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 85 Stick to the Plan

Not until late afternoon did Cyndy's core temperature come down to the level Doctor Freedman wanted to see. As soon as he ordered the water evaporation treatment ended, the nurse clothed her in a hospital gown and transferred her to a room two doors down from Murdock.

Face and Mrs. Bartleman stood outside the door, waiting for the nurse to insert the IV, record her vitals and make sure she was as comfortable as she could be.

"I'll just pop in and pop back out again so you two have some time together, Templeton." Mrs. Bartleman glanced down the hallway toward the exit. "I want to visit Mr. Murdock and make sure he has a copy of the theater review. He deserves a lot of credit for how well our production has been received by our audience. All of you do. I just wish he could have had his real name and not an alias posted in the program and review."

"I'm sure he'll appreciate your visit, Mrs. B." The Lieutenant stuffed his hands in his pants pockets and stared at the door as if to will the nurse to hurry and let him come in. He shifted his weight from foot to foot.

The older woman touched his cheek with her fingertips to gain his attention. His distracted blue eyes settled on her softened expression."You listen to me, young man. Cynthia will get better. You found her in time."

He swallowed hard and nodded, a grim tightness to his features.

The nurse opened the door and signaled for them to come in. Face began to edge past the nurse but was stopped by Mrs. Bartleman. "I'm not finished with you, Templeton. If you don't marry that young woman in there, I'll be deeply disappointed in you."

She gave him a no-nonsense look from over the top of her glasses. If the theater owner were dressed in a white wimple and black habit and standing with a ruler in her hand at the head of a classroom, he would not have felt any less cowed by her statement. His stomach tightened at her serious expression.

"Temp?" A soft voice beckoned to him from the bed. Face gulped once as Mrs. Bartleman gently pushed him forward.

_Am I worried about Cyndy? Or is it the idea of marriage that has me feeling this way?_

He bent over Cyndy and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. She blinked back tears and weakly smiled at him before acknowledging Mrs. Bartleman with a nod.

Taking her hand, Face settled into the chair beside her bed. He hesitated before stammering, "S . . . so how are you feeling now?"

A small chuckle escaped her lips. "I've felt a whole lot better." Her eyes blurred with the tears she wanted to hold back. "If you hadn't found me . . . "

"But we did, Angel." He reached with the forefinger of his other hand and wiped away a tear that trickled from the corner of her eye. He whispered, "We did, and that's all that matters right now."

Face caressed her cheek and leaned forward to kiss her again, this time longer and with more feeling.

Mrs. Bartleman smiled indulgently at both of them before excusing herself. Neither glanced up at her as she left the room and quietly closed the door.

oooooo

Mrs. Bartleman came in and left within a few minutes. Murdock had been moody and quiet, barely looking at either of them. He accepted the newspaper clipping of the review from the theater owner with a curt "thank you." He scanned it quickly before tucking it in the copy of _Peter Pan _Cyndy had left for him early that morning before she was kidnapped.

Hannibal followed Mrs. Bartleman to the door. She glanced back at the patient and murmured, "I understand completely, Colonel Smith. I shouldn't have interrupted his rest. He's likely still tired and out-of-sorts from the pneumonia."

_Probably true to a small degree, _Hannibal thought, _but still not a good reason for the way he's acting._

The Colonel stood at the window looking out at the grassy lawn behind the hospital wing. His arms were crossed as he impassively watched two employees walk through the grass to the parking lot. When he turned back to the patient in the bed, he realized Murdock was staring at him.

The fierce anger, an uncommon emotional display for him, had not left the younger man's face. "I wanna go _home_, Hannibal. You know what I think 'bout hospitals, least any 'cept the VA hospital back in L. A. I told you 'bout my mother 'n' _this_ hospital."

The Colonel shook his head, forcing his expression to be firm.

_I understand, Murdock . . . son . . . but you have to follow the plan. Right now, that's all I can come up with to be able to rid ourselves of both McKeever and Winton. _

"I want your father to _think_ you're dead so he'll come out to the farm to get Winton next. When he does that, we'll have him. As long as he's out there and we don't know where he is, he can attack you or Winton or maybe even Cyndy again when we least expect it. I've explained all of this to you."

Murdock clenched one fist and slammed it down on the mattress with frustration. "I'm gonna go _looneytunes_ in here. I gotta stay put 'n' do nothin'. If anythin', I'm s'posed to _pretend _I'm gettin' worse 'stead a better. I can't even go see 'bout Cyndy. There's _gotta_ be some other way o' doin' this."

Rather than see the accusatory glare the pilot was giving him, Hannibal walked to the door.

"Where're ya goin', Colonel? You're not gonna have 'em restrain me 'gain, are ya? I promise ya, I'll chew through the restraints this time, ya do that." Murdock's growled threat stopped the Colonel halfway.

_Am I going to have to do that just to make you obey orders? _

Hannibal winced at the desperation he heard in the younger man's tone. "It's just about time for Face to relieve me. I'm going to go to Miss Berquon's room and get him. Then I'm going to take Hollis Latreque to the bank in the El Camino."

Before Murdock could protest anymore, the Colonel slipped out of the room and down the hall to let Face know it was time for his watch. But first, he made a special request at the nurses' station.

oooooo

McKeever emptied the water he used to mop the floor into the sink in the utility room. As he replaced the plastic bucket back in its place on the cleaning cart outside the door, he unobtrusively scrutinized the tired-looking man as he exited the room at the end of the hall. He was certain his son's friend did not identify him as he passed the janitor's utility room.

The white-haired man went to the nurses' station and McKeever watched out of the corner of his eye. One of the nurses smiled and nodded in response to a request he made.

He was satisfied when he observed the man knock at a door two doors away from his son's room, say something to the occupants and walk toward the exit. McKeever's eyes widened when he saw Hollis Latreque emerge from his room in a wheelchair, a nurse pushing it toward the exit door.

All three left the building together and when the nurse returned with an empty wheelchair, Murdock's father knew Latreque and his son's friend were up to something.

And when another of his son's friends, the well-dressed blonde-haired man, left one room and went to the other his son was in, McKeever felt certain he would get an opportunity to finish his business. This friend knew him as the one who helped once when his son went out of control. He would never suspect McKeever to be doing anything but tidying up the room.

He was just a janitor, after all. And janitors were part of the unseen work force of the hospital, seen but not really seen as they went about their tasks.


	86. Chapter 86 Of Friendship and Love

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 86 Of Friendship and Love

Murdock glanced up at Face as he entered the room and snorted before returning his gaze to the window and what lay beyond it.

"What? No greeting? Glad to see you, too, buddy." The Lieutenant sat down heavily in the chair beside the bed. "I was with Cyndy when Hannibal got hold of me to come down here."

"Yeah, well, sorry fer pissin' on yer picnic. Ya think I _wanna_ have ya'll watchin' me like I'm a pot yer waitin' on ta boil?" He tossed his left arm up over his eyes and gritted his teeth. "Wasn't even my wishes I'm in here ta begin with. 'N' all o' ya _know_ that."

Face leaned back in the chair and clasped his hands together in his lap. He stared out the window before speaking.

"You're not going to ask about Cyndy? Or did Hannibal already tell you?" Face waited. In his peripheral vision, he noticed his friend lower his arm and shift slightly to prop himself higher on the pillows. He smiled to himself.

"What 'bout Cyndy?" The three words were a hesitant whisper. "Jus' heard ya found 'er. Hann'bal didn' go inta details. Neither did B. A."

The Lieutenant remained silent for a minute and continued to stare out the window. Before he could frame an answer, he heard the mechanical sound of the hospital bed being readjusted.

"_What 'bout her?_" The repeated words were louder and edged with anxiety.

"She was in pretty bad shape when we found her. Heat stroke. They have her stabilized and in a room now." A rustling movement from the direction of the bed made Face turn back to Murdock.

_Hannibal was right not to tell him anything. _

On the pillows at the head of the bed was the CPAP mask. The pilot had thrown the blanket and sheet back and had his legs over the edge of the bed. The IV bag and drainage bottle beside him, he wobbled as he waited for his dizziness to pass. As Face watched, Murdock began to unsteadily slip his feet down to the tile floor.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" In three steps, the Lieutenant positioned himself in front of Murdock and grasped his shoulders. Seconds later, the pilot fell forward, his head coming to rest against Face's stomach.

With great care, Face slid his friend back onto the bed. All the time he noted how little the IV feedings were making a difference in putting lost weight, muscle and fat Murdock could not afford to lose in the first place, back on him.

He pushed the nurse call button. Pulling the sheets and blankets up to Murdock's waist, he punched at the button again when there was no response.

"Yes, Mister McGilvery?" The speaker crackled as the nurse answered.

"My friend tried getting out of bed and I'm afraid he removed his CPAP mask before I could stop him. Could I get some help down here?" Face watched for any sign of consciousness as he waited for the nurse. Stepping back from the bed when she entered the room, he watched as she slipped the mask back on and made sure there was no leakage.

"What are you giving him now?" The Lieutenant frowned as she cleansed the IV port with a squirt of saline and injected the contents of a syringe.

"Doctor Freedman said that if the patient became agitated I was to give him lorazepam to calm him. It won't knock him out completely, don't worry." The young red-haired nurse appeared barely over the age of twenty and Face wondered if she knew what an agitated patient looked like.

Murdock softly moaned. Opening his eyelids halfway, he stared dully at Face. The nurse slipped a blood pressure cuff over his arm.

"Guess I'd better not do that anymore, huh?" The pilot swallowed and grimaced as the cuff tightened and the nurse took the reading.

After she left, Face slid the chair closer. "You damn right you'd better not do that anymore. Cyndy's fine. She's in here for observation overnight and then Doctor Freedman said she will probably be sent home. Okay?"

The Lieutenant tried to forget the array of blood and urine samples Cyndy was requested to give besides the muscle function tests and X-rays she was subjected to. All of them were necessary to check for central nervous system, muscle, kidney or other internal organ damage. Doctor Freedman had not yet seen all of the results so he was reluctant to tell Face or Cyndy anything.

_And what if something comes back showing she has something wrong with her now because we didn't get there in time? It's my fault. I should have made her go home as soon as she dropped off the bag of snacks. _

"You look like a world o' guilt's restin' on your shoulders right now." Face was startled from his reverie by Murdock's observation. "Wanna talk 'bout it?"

Face looked down at his hands, then back up into the pilot's serious eyes. "I'm not sure talking will help right now."

Murdock's face broke into a wide grin. "Aw, c'mon, Faceman. You 'n' me, we always know when somethin' ain' right with one o' us." His grin faded as he poked Face in the knee with a pointer finger. "'N' right now, my somethin's-wrong meter's jumpin' clear off the scale."

"I think I put Cyndy in danger early this morning by letting her stay here with me and you. If she would have gone back to the farm right away . . . " He looked up sharply when he heard the faint chuckle from the patient in the bed.

Murdock was shaking his head, an amused smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You sure we're talkin' 'bout the same gal? Cyndy I know wouldn'ta done what ya said if ya drove her there yourself 'n' dropped her off with no car ta get back with. Lord, Face, she's 'bout as stubborn as a mule . . . but _much_ prettier."

The Lieutenant sighed and continued to examine his hands.

"But that ain' all it is, is it? Ya got somethin' else's eatin' 'way at ya." The pilot stared at Face until he looked up. "Tell me. You'll feel better if someone else knows." Face shook his head, his lips tight. Murdock affected an Austrian accent. "Trust me, I know vat I am speaking of and as your therapist, I vill keep your secret hush-hush." He cocked his head to one side and elaborately pretended to zip his mouth shut, lock it and throw away the key.

"You know, you're crazy. Did I ever tell you that?" Face smiled at his friend.

Murdock gave him a crooked grin and pretended to unzip his mouth long enough to say, "Everyone seems ta tell me that. Don' 'member if you have or not. Intermittent memory loss, ya know."

The Lieutenant took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I love Cyndy."

"Well, duh. If ya think I hadn' figured that one out . . . " Murdock's hands spasmed on top of the blanket and he gripped the side rails to stop the involuntary movement.

"Just let me talk, okay? I love her more than I've ever loved any of the others." Face clasped his hands together and braced his elbows on his knees.

"I saw that one comin', too." The pilot squeezed his eyes shut, his mouth tightened against the wave of spasms wracking his arms and legs.

"Have you thought about what it would be like to be married to Dani and then really thought about it and gotten scared?" The Lieutenant scowled down at the gray-flecked tile floor.

Several seconds passed in silence.

Face glanced up and abruptly stood, his whole expression one of panic. His eyes shut tightly, tears streaming down the side of his face, Murdock arched his back and moaned.


	87. Chapter 87 Seizure

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 87 Seizure

Face watched in panic as Murdock's back arched for seconds, then relaxed only to arch again moments later.

"Murdock! Do you hear me, buddy?" No answer except the groans that barely escaped between clenched teeth. The arms and legs twitched spasmodically, the hands curled around the side rails in a death grip.

He heard the door open and close behind him. Someone with the lingering smell of floor cleaner and dust mop treatment spray came closer.

"He's a feisty one, ain' he? Need any help here?" The Lieutenant swung around to come eye to eye with the janitor he had met during his first shift.

"Feisty nothing. I think he's having a seizure." Face frantically pressed the nurse call button. Half a minute passed, then another, and there was still no answering feminine voice over the speaker.

"Thought I saw the nurse go inta the room two doors down. If ya wanna run get 'er, I'll stay with 'im, turn 'im on his side so he don' vomit 'n' choke on it." The janitor tried to pry Murdock's fingers from the left side rails as the Lieutenant hurried from the room.

The door closed with a click and McKeever's face hardened.

_Only a few minutes 'fore that guy finds the nurse, wherever she **really** is. Should be all it takes. _

Dropping the hand he had removed from the side rail, he ripped the mask from Murdock's face. He wrestled one of the pillows from under the pilot's head and pressed it down over his face, keeping his ears open for any movement in the hallway. Murdock clawed at, then gripped, the hands of his assailant but grew weaker as the seconds passed. Running footsteps in the hallway alerted McKeever to the blonde-haired friend returning with a nurse.

Cursing under his breath, McKeever quickly stuffed the pillow under Murdock's head and flipped him onto his right side.

Face blanched when he entered the room. Murdock appeared as if he were hardly breathing at all. The spasms had died down to small twitches. His nose and mouth were pale but there was a slight bluish tinge to the rest of his face. He remained semi-conscious and close-eyed.

The nurse rushed to the bedside to press the button and summon more help. She cast a cold glance toward the janitor. "We've got it under control now. Thank you."

McKeever wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and backed away from the bed and toward the door. "Didn' know what else to do. Dangest thin' I ever seen. He jus' started workin' at his breathin' 'n' turnin' blue." He put one hand on the Lieutenant's shoulder and plastered a sympathetic expression on his face. "Sure hope yer friend pulls outta this, but I don' know . . . " He patted Face's shoulder and left the room.

A few seconds later, the door opened to a team of orderlies and another nurse.

"I'm going to have you step out of the room for a few seconds, sir." The night nurse directed her order at Face. While tilting Murdock's head, she swept his mouth with her gloved finger to check for any obstruction in his throat. Finding none, she placed the mask back on his face and began to check his other vital signs.

"Blood pressure 147 over 90, heart rate 112 . . . " The Lieutenant lingered for a second, listening, and stumbled to the door. Once outside in the hallway, he slumped against the wall for support and held his bowed head in his hands.

_He was getting better. I know I wasn't imagining it. He wasn't coughing as much and he was more alert, more like his normal self. How could it have turned around so quickly? _

He raised his head and blindly stared down the hallway as Doctor Freedman came toward him. Wearing a wrinkled suit and with hair sticking out all over his head, the doctor looked as if he had been catching some sleep in the doctors' lounge before being called. Behind him the janitor wheeled a cleaning cart into the area of the nurses' station.

Face couldn't be sure but he thought that as the janitor swept the tiled floor with a dust mop, he kept one eye on the activity happening around Murdock's room.

While Doctor Freedman and his team of assistants examined Murdock and made sure his condition was stable, Face paced up and down from Cyndy's room to the exit door and back again. Several minutes passed before most of the medical team left. After a few more minutes, Doctor Freedman came out of the room, his glasses in one hand, his other hand rubbing his eyes.

"How is he, doc?" Face walked quickly toward him.

"He's in a deep sleep as we would expect after a seizure like that. Do you know any of his medical history, anything that would suggest he's had seizures before?"

"When he came back from Viet Nam, some of his treatment at the V. A. involved electroshock therapy to combat bouts of severe depression. He said he felt like he'd never stop spasming after an EST session. Other than that, no." The Lieutenant stared at the closed door and fisted his hands in his pants pockets. "Why did he have trouble breathing? I thought the antibiotics were working."

"They are. The chest X-rays show the lungs are beginning to clear and there's no fluid around the left lung anymore. I'm concerned about leaving the drainage tube in him much longer as Colonel Smith wants. It heightens the risk of infection and if the tube is accidentally pulled out, air can enter the chest cavity. His bloodwork came back with good levels of oxygen and carbon dioxide in the blood so he has no more need for it." The doctor caught himself and remembered the question. "But, no, this wasn't due to the pneumonia."

"So now what?" Face leaned up against the wall.

"I'd like to run some tests to make sure of what caused this seizure."

The Lieutenant glanced toward the doctor and shook his head. "He isn't going to like being poked and prodded much more. I can't say I blame him. But if you need to find out what happened . . . "

"We'll begin with an EEG, an electroencephalogram, to measure his brain wave activity and see if there are any abnormal impulses. If we start that tonight we should have a few answers in twelve to eighteen hours. We'll run a complete blood count and check his urine for the levels of drugs and medications in his system and also for signs of a neurological infection. The most invasive and most painful test will be a lumbar puncture. A spinal tap in layman's terms."

Face shuddered. "Is a spinal tap absolutely necessary?"

"If we want to check for a central nervous system infection, it is. If there are white blood cells in the spinal fluid, then we'll know and can treat for whatever infection it is."

The Lieutenant pushed himself from the wall and took two steps toward the door. He hesitated with his hand on the door knob. "Talk to Hannibal before you do anything. I can't, I won't, give approval for any of this knowing my best friend would refuse this type of treatment if he could speak for himself."

oooooo

McKeever felt the sting as the mop water spilled onto his hand. Looking down, he swore under his breath at the two long scratches on the back of his right hand. He hadn't realized at the time of the struggle that his son left those.

_Maybe no one'll think twice 'bout 'em. But if he remembers and tells, someone'll be sure to question me. _

He didn't like wearing rubber gloves for the work he did around the hospital but for the time being, he would have to. He could always claim to have a skin reaction to one of the cleaning chemicals. Smiling grimly, he pulled on a pair of rubber gloves from the utility closet shelf and considered his next move.


	88. Chapter 88 So Alike, So Different

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 88 So Alike, So Different

Hannibal clenched a fresh cigar in his teeth as he drove Hollis Latreque to the bank where his father did his financial business. "Texas law says you can get access to your father's safe deposit box as long as a bank representative is with you. Winton claimed your father kept the original signed and witnessed statement he made in that box. If you get that statement, we have less need for Winton's oral testimony and none for the copy he has of the written testimony."

The younger man nodded, his thoughts a confused swirl. The shoulder wound still throbbed when he moved in the wrong way and he was taking Percocet for the pain. The painkiller made him drowsy.

This white-haired man with the steel blue eyes talked sense. Winton and McKeever would likely want him dead. Winton's written testimony would put McKeever behind bars and his own oral testimony of how he got the gunshot wound would do the same for Winton. Maybe he would escape with a mild sentence if he gave up both Winton and McKeever.

Hollis frowned out the window at the businesses they passed. "You asked how I knew it was McKeever killed my Pa? Winton and me, we were the last ones to see McKeever. Pa tol' us to track 'im down, tell 'im he wanted ta see 'im. We followed 'im to my Pa's office buildin', made sure he went in." The younger man felt his gut wrench. "'N' that was the last time I saw my Pa 'live was when he tol' us to collect up that miserable drunk 'n' deliver 'im."

"I'm sorry for your loss." Hannibal's voice was quiet.

The passenger cast a sharp glance at the older man. Assured the sympathy was not meant to manipulate him, he gave Hannibal a sad smile. "He may not a been real good in the fatherin' department but he _was_ my Pa. Least he never beat on me or tried ta kill me."

Hannibal gripped the steering wheel tighter. His thoughts drifted to his own father and then to McKeever.

"Not everyone can say that, Hollis. I'm glad you can." The two men exchanged tormented looks. Hannibal reflected on his own childhood and the psychological scars Murdock continued to carry from his childhood. Hollis grieved for a father he could no longer see.

oooooo

A knock at the door jolted Face out of his silent brooding. Murdock was in such a deep sleep he almost seemed comatose. The sound did not stir any reaction from him, not even rapid eye movement.

A nurse opened the door as wide as it would go before turning to the side and maneuvering a wheelchair through the opening.

Face stood and met the nurse, taking the operation of the wheelchair out of her hands. Bringing the chair close to Murdock's side, Face locked the brakes and squatted to look Cyndy in the eyes.

He rested a hand along her cheek and caressed her jaw with his thumb. "You should be in bed resting, Angel."

She smiled and took his hand in hers, holding it in her lap. "Hannibal arranged for me to come. If Doctor Freedman thought I couldn't leave my bed, he would have left orders to stop me."

Face thought back to what Murdock said earlier and smiled back at her, his eyes taking in every lovely feature of her tender expression.

"_Lord, Face, she's 'bout as stubborn as a mule . . . but much prettier." Murdock was right. If she wanted to be here bad enough, she would find a way. _

He glanced toward his friend and winced at his pallor..

_The two of them are so much alike in temperament. If Dani wasn't in the picture, I wonder if he would have let me get this close to her. _

The question he had raised, the one Murdock never answered, came back to him. _"Have you ever thought about what it would be like to be married to Dani and then really thought about it and gotten scared?"_

"You let me know when you want to go back to your room. I'll be at the desk." The nurse paused at the door before leaving the couple. "You and Mister McGilvery will have some tests in the morning so don't stay up too late."

A feeling of protectiveness rose up inside Face as he gazed into Cyndy's eyes. "I'll make sure she behaves. Thank you."

He moved the chair he had been sitting in next to the wheelchair. "How are you really feeling?" He wanted to scoop her out of the chair and into his lap but contented himself with holding her hand. The memory of how she looked after they found her in the hay shed made him cautious with how he touched her. She had seemed so fragile.

She ignored the question. Nodding at the patient in the bed, she murmured, "I heard a lot of commotion down here. What happened?"

"Uh uh. You don't deflect the question that easily. Are you hurting in some way? Is there some way I can make you more comfortable?" The Lieutenant frowned.

_That's another way she's like Murdock. She'll always look out for those she loves before she takes care of her own needs. _

"I wouldn't mind having some iced lemon lime Coke. If it isn't too much trouble."

Face smiled at the expression. To him Coke was Coke but to some Texans, including Cyndy, Coke was any kind of carbonated beverage. He stood. "If you can watch our friend here as he sleeps, I'll see if I can find some for you. Is your throat dry?"

"I'm just following doctor's orders and drinking as many fluids as I can. Besides, if I'm going to read out loud, I'll need it. Could you pass the book to me?"

He handed _Peter Pan_ to her. "I never read it. Mind if I listen in?"

"Twenty years ago, I read all but the last chapter to him." Her expression became wistful as she looked down at the book and then at him. "I answered your question but you never answered mine. What happened? Has he woke up at all?"

"No fair. You added another question." He flashed her a smile which faded when he remembered the condition Murdock was in when he left to find the nurse and what he looked like when Face returned. The last time Cyndy saw Murdock awake was the morning he had the first set of chest X-rays done, before he was admitted to the hospital.

_Of course she'd be worried. But how much should I tell her? _

She frowned at him. "I'm serious."

"He's been awake off and on ever since about five Tuesday morning. He's been wanting to know how you are." Face thought he saw her blush slightly.

"And the reason for the commotion down here earlier was . . . ?" She clasped her hands together on top of the book in her lap and raised her eyebrows.

"It looked like a seizure. A bad one. Like something from _The Exorcist_ only without the pea soup vomit and the head turning 360 degrees." He heard the small gasp of concern and watched as she reached to touch the pilot's right hand. Her hand closed over Murdock's and she stroked the fingers with her thumb, gazing at his peaceful features.

"I'll go get that Seven-Up and ice for you now," Face muttered. He turned and strode out of the room, wondering why, if he was so much in doubt about plans of marriage, he was so jealous that a part of Cyndy's heart still belonged to Murdock.


	89. Chapter 89 Love, Sweet Love

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 89 Love, Sweet Love

He had dropped Hollis off at his apartment after receiving Winton's sealed original testimony from him. Before leaving, Hannibal gave him instructions. "Watch out for McKeever. He's going to know you can place him at your father's office building. That makes you one of his targets. And if you need to talk, kid, you know where to find me." They shook hands and as Hollis slowly trudged up the steps to the front door of the apartment building, the Colonel murmured, "Take care of yourself, kid."

Next he drove to the hardware store where he made three backed the van up to the rear doors where one of the customer service employees waited. Opening the van's side door, he loaded the bucket of phosphorescent acrylic water-based paint and stood aside as the employee placed the large pane of glass and the full length mirror inside.

"Thanks, pal," Hannibal smiled over the cigar in his mouth as he got in the driver's seat and started the engine. Now the success of the plan depended upon how well Murdock could fool McKeever into believing he died in the hospital. That wouldn't happen for another thirty-six hours.

oooooo

As Cyndy read, occasionally sipping Seven Up from a styrofoam cup, the Lieutenant watched her expressions and marveled at his feelings for her.

She wasn't like the other women he had known. Murdock was correct about that. The other women had a manipulative angle behind their smiles and actions, especially when he was pretending to be wealthier than he actually was. But then he usually was seducing _them, _too_._ In the end, they were being equally duplicitous to each other. Nothing wagered, nothing lost.

_But Cyndy's real. She's beautiful and I love her in a way I never thought I ever would love again. Not since Leslie. _

The thought of Leslie in her nun's habit soured his stomach. She was happy in the life she had chosen for herself but it didn't make his own feelings for her go away. He forced them into the closet in his mind that he hardly ever opened. At least, hardly ever, and then only with a stiff drink in his hand and no one else around to see his foul mood.

_I will not let Cyndy become like Leslie. I won't let her slip away . . . even if it means marriage. _

His gaze settled on her once again and he tried to imagine what married life with her would be like.

_Come on, Peck. It can't be as bad as you think it is. _

She took another sip from the cup and gave it back to him. Refilling the cup from the can, he removed the top from the pitcher on the overbed table and plunked a few ice chips into the soda.

"'And that was the first of the many joyous evenings they had with Wendy. By and by she tucked them up in the great bed in the home under the trees, but she herself slept that night in the little house, and Peter kept watch outside with drawn sword, for the pirates could be heard carousing far away and the wolves were on the prowl. The little house looked so cosy and safe in the darkness, with a bright light showing through its blinds, and the chimney smoking beautifully, and Peter standing on guard,'" she read.

"I'd like to be your Peter Pan, Cyndy." He reached for her casted hand, seeing the traces of adhesive on the plaster from the duct tape McKeever had used to subdue her when he kidnapped her from the parking lot.

_Nothing and nobody will ever hurt you again, Angel._

She stopped reading and turned to him. He wasn't prepared for the pensive scrutiny she gave him.

_Did I say something wrong?_

"You haven't ever read this book, have you?" At his puzzled expression, a small wistful smile appeared on her lips. "Never mind."

A soft moan from the bed ended the moment. Cyndy swiveled her head to look at Murdock. The book fell to the floor with a thud as she reached through the bed rails to grasp his hand.

Face cursed his friend's timing as he picked up the hard cover book and set it on the table.

"H. M.?" Cyndy wavered on her feet, the fingers of her uncasted hand stroking Murdock's unshaven jaw. The hospital gown opened slightly and Face caught a glimpse of the smooth skin of her back before he discreetly looked away.

Standing up, he put his arm around her and guided her back into the wheelchair. "Hospital gowns aren't the most modest attire," he whispered in her ear.

Gazing up at him with pinkened cheeks, she whispered back, "Oops!"

_Did she just give me a wicked smile? Like she knew I'd see that?_

"Cyndy? Face?" Murdock's eyes opened slightly. His face contorted with pain as his hand drifted to his forehead. "Was my head used for battin' practice? Or am I havin' one mother of a headache?"

"It's probably from the seizure. You've been sleeping ever since." Face settled back into his chair.

_I sure hope you don't remember our conversation and answer my last question to you. Not now. Not in front of Cyndy. _

His friend groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. "All I 'member is tryin' to talk to ya 'n' seein' a buncha bright flashin' colors. I couldn't get my muscles to relax either." Murdock opened his eyes again to peer at Cyndy. Visually scanning her for any obvious signs of injury or pain, he sighed. "I sure am glad ta see you, Buttercup. Faceman tol' me they're keepin' ya here overnight. Are ya okay?" His hand fumbled through the side rails.

"I'll be fine, H. M. I guess both you and I'll be having some tests done in the morning. We'll know more then about how we both are doing." She smiled at him as his hand closed around hers.

His alarmed gaze darted to Face and he clutched at the bed rails to pull himself into a sitting position. "Ain' Doctor Freedman done 'nough tests on me? Don' want no more X-rays 'r needles."

"He wants to know _why_ you had a seizure." The Lieutenant walked over to the window and stared out at the orange glow of the receding sun. Anything to avoid seeing the concern on Cyndy's face for Murdock's condition.

_She's worried about him. Like a friend would be. That's all it is. Like a friend. _

"Who knows? Maybe a delayed reaction to an ol' 'lectroshock treatment. I'm _not_ havin' more stuff done ta me. If I'm 'wake 'nough to say 'no,' I will." Murdock measured out his words in a bitter tone.

"Yeah?" Face glared over his shoulder at his friend. "Well, if you refuse treatment, maybe I won't be around the next time you decide to pull a Linda Blair type move."

The pilot collapsed into the pillows and scowled at the ceiling. His chest heaved up and down with the anger of the moment.

His words were raw with emotion and chillingly quiet. He refused to look directly at Face. "Well, maybe ya don' _need_ ta babysit me anymore seein's how I'm gettin' in the way o' you 'n' Cyndy."

For seconds Face froze at the window, hoping Murdock wouldn't bring up the discussion they had been engaged in before his seizure.

When nothing more was said, he breathed a little easier. "Not my choice, buddy. Hannibal's orders," the Lieutenant remarked, continuing to stare out the window at the gathering darkness.

_And Hannibal will probably order you to have the tests done, too. You won't have much say in that. _

"Stop it, both of you!" Cyndy spat the words out at them and covered her eyes with her uncasted hand. Her shoulders shook with barely concealed sobs.

Murdock closed his eyes and sighed. "Sorry, Buttercup. Can't stan' hospitals. Too many memories."

Her voice quavered. "Will you do it for me?"

His hand closed over her trembling fingers and squeezed them gently. For seconds he gazed into her eyes. "I can't. Too many nightmares afterwards. Ya don' wanna deal with that, trust me. Least the V. A. hospital's got my shrink 'n' Dani 'n' lotsa good drugs ta drive the bad dreams 'way."

Face swallowed. He understood the connection between hospital stays and nightmares. It was part of the reason he elected to have Hannibal do what he could for any medical situations he found himself in. The Colonel wasn't the best medic in the world but it was better than having to receive treatment from strangers and have nightmares about Viet Nam and base hospitals.

_I almost forgot how bad the dreams could be. And he has more reason than I do to hate hospitals. _

"Listen, buddy. I'll be there with you for every test you have to have. Just let the doctor figure out what caused the seizure. Okay?" The Lieutenant turned to look at his friend. "I'll be there for the nightmares, too, if you need me to be."

Murdock met Face's eyes. "Let me think on that, 'kay?" He gave him an apologetic half-smile. "'Sides, we got all night 'fore I gotta decide on that, right?" Murdock glanced at Cyndy, then at the book on the table. "Now what 'bout that lil' house Peter Pan built for Wendy?"


	90. Chapter 90 EEG

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 90 EEG

At ten in the evening, Hannibal came to relieve Face.

As the Colonel tapped softly and opened the door he heard Cyndy read to a moody Murdock, "'Peter was not quite like other boys; but he was afraid at last. A tremour ran through him, like a shudder passing over the sea; but on the sea one shudder follows another till there are hundreds of them, and Peter felt just the one. Next moment he was standing erect on the rock again, with that smile on his face and a drum beating within him. It was saying, "To die will be an awfully big adventure."'"

"An awfully big adventure," Murdock repeated under his breath, his gaze focused on the machine recording his brain waves.

The Lieutenant leaned on Cyndy, his head on her shoulder, his eyes closed. He startled awake and stood as the Colonel approached the bed.

Hannibal drew in a deep breath. His eyes took in the network of electrodes placed all around the pilot's head and the machine's needles undulating across the paper strip in the galvanometer.

The patient acknowledged the Colonel's presence with a sniff and a nod of his head toward the recording device. "Jus' 'member, Hannibal, this wasn' my choice."

"What happened?" He sank into the chair beside Cyndy and looked from the young woman to Face and finally to Murdock.

"Face says he thinks I had a grand mal seizure. I don' 'member. Saw a lotta rainbow-colored bright lights 'n' then the muscles in my hands tightened up. Tried ta stop 'em but I couldn'. All the muscles in my body were spasmin'. When I woke up, Face 'n' Cyndy was lookin' at me like _you're_ lookin' at me right now." The pilot glared at Hannibal. "I mean, c'mon, Colonel. I'm not a three-headed Martian."

"How long does he have to be monitored?" The Colonel directed his question at the Lieutenant.

"I'm not deaf 'r mute either."

Hannibal chose to ignore the remark. "How long?"

Face moved to stand behind Cyndy's wheelchair. His hands lightly touched her shoulders. "If he goes to sleep so they can have a good reading of his brain wave patterns during that period of time, mid-morning. If he doesn't, it'll probably be longer." The Lieutenant shot his friend a pointed look.

Murdock snorted and stared toward the window.

Handing the book to Hannibal, Cyndy yawned and stretched. "I'm supposed to have some tests done in the morning, too. Maybe _you_ can get him to cooperate." She smiled up at Face. "I'm ready for bed. Do you want to take me there?"

Hannibal noted with amusement the surprised look his Lieutenant gave her and waited for the suggestive comment Face usually had for ladies he was interested in.

"Sure, Angel. Want me to get the nurse to order some warm milk for you?"

She took one of his hands and held it against her cheek. "That would be nice." She yawned again.

Bending to kiss her on the top of her head, he undid the brakes and maneuvered her chair backwards toward the door. "Good night all." And then they were gone.

The Colonel raised his eyebrows and stared at the door gently closing behind them. "No remark? No double entendre?"

"Faceman's got the love bug bad, Colonel." Hannibal swung his head back to give Murdock a scrutinizing gaze. There was something about the tone of his voice that wasn't right.

"Care to elaborate, Captain?"

Murdock shook his head and let himself sink deeper into the pillows. "Guess I should get some sleep, too. Doc's wantin' to have a spinal tap done in the mornin'. 'Less you got somethin' ya need me ta know."

The Colonel started to say something and then decided not to pry.

_Whatever's going on between Face and Murdock is something they have to work out._

Then he thought of something to shift the Captain's attention away from Cyndy and Face. "Miss Scalatini called yesterday evening. She knows you're in the hospital."

The pilot groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. "What'd ya tell 'er?"

"That you came down with something and needed to get well quickly. She's worried. She wanted to come out here to see for herself how you are. I tried to convince her not to."

"I'm gonna hafta talk to 'er now that I'm not coughin' my lungs out. Prob'ly not a good idea ta do it while I'm hooked up. Best ta do it soon, though." Murdock opened his eyes and analyzed Hannibal's serious expression. "What else?"

"Hollis gave me the original of Winton's written testimony about Delton's murder. I have it in a very safe place."

"Where'dya hide it? Under all that gold B. A. wears?" Hannibal was relieved to hear the wry humor behind the comment.

"Funny, very funny, but no. Like I said, it's in a safe place and only I know where it is. I bought the supplies we need for phase two of the plan. B. A. needs to have Face transport our resident bad guy Winton somewhere so he can prepare the barn. Are you almost ready to enact phase one?"

Murdock's solemn piercing look unsettled the Colonel. "I got way too much 'sperience with nearly dyin' not ta get it right, Hannibal," he said softly.

"Just don't make it _too_ real, Captain." The pilot's grim expression hinted of something more sinister going on in that intelligent mind. An ominous gloom settled in Hannibal's heart as he looked at the younger man's face. "Anything else you want to tell me before you rest?"

"I don' 'member very well but I think Pa was in here 'gain when I was havin' that seizure. I couldn' breathe for a while. Felt like somethin' was smotherin' me." Murdock shrugged. "But then it _could_ be my 'magination. I mean, I think Faceman was with me th' whole time. So it couldn'ta happened."

Hannibal made eye contact with the Captain. "It won't be long now and you won't have to worry about your father anymore."

Murdock frowned. "You think I should hate him, don'tcha?"

The question was met with silence.

"Well, I don't. I can't. The booze got 'is brains scrambled. He don' know what he's doin'." The patient sighed. "I don' wan' 'im dead. Never did."

Hannibal reflected on what Murdock said but before he could frame a response the pilot was asleep.

oooooo

An hour later the night nurse swept in the door with two syringes. By now Hannibal knew they contained antibiotics to fight the bacterial pneumonia in Murdock's lungs.

The dark-haired nurse flashed him a warm smile. "Are you comfortable? Would you like me to get you a cup of coffee or a blanket?"

The Colonel rubbed his eyes and yawned. "A cup of coffee would be nice if you wouldn't mind." He watched as she injected the antibiotics into the IV port.

The nurse paused and looked down at the sleeping patient. "You know I was in the audience on opening night. My boyfriend took me. I never cared for Shakespeare much when I was in high school but Mister McGilvery made it seem so interesting. He's quite an actor." She glanced at the Colonel.

"So I've heard." Hannibal crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair. "Do you watch many movies?"

"Some."

"You ever seen 'Revenge of the Aquamaniac'?" The Colonel grinned. It was the one movie of his that he knew made it to late night television.

Her forehead puckered in thought before she shook her head with a smile. "I don't think I've even heard of it. Sounds . . . interesting." She recorded the time she gave the antibiotics on a clipboard and turned to the door. "I'll go get you that coffee now."

"Yeah. Thanks." Hannibal shook his head. _Maybe I need to hire an agent. _


	91. Chapter 91 The Second Seizure

B Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 91 The Second Seizure

_I wish you didn't have to go through all of this. Your mother died in this hospital, your father's stalking you and I can't do a thing about it except to have you pretend to die and hope your father's fooled into thinking you're dead. _

Hannibal stared at Murdock and then at the gentle hills and valleys of his brain waves on the paper record of the galvanometer.

_Every minute of that seems the same. He hasn't had any strange spikes. Hasn't dreamed any bad dreams. In fact, he's hardly moved at all. It's eerie. _

Straightening up in the chair, gulping the last of his ice cold coffee, he grimaced.

_Maybe the seizure was a one-time occurrence. Or was it like what he told Face: a seizure induced by electroshock therapy received in the past? _

Of course, none of them knew everything that was done to Murdock in the V. A. hospital in the name of dealing with his mental health issues. He didn't divulge very much information about it either and especially not in front of B. A.

But they had all witnessed some of the results after Murdock's ESTs: complaints of nausea and headaches, burn marks at the sites of the electrodes, difficulty in speaking, memory loss, occasional involuntary twitches. There were times he could not be taken from the hospital for a mission. Maybe he _had_ received one too many electroshock treatments and that led to this seizure.

_If I could have erased every memory that caused you pain and created the need for the therapy, I would have. I wish you knew that. _

The Colonel leaned back in the seat. To _think about_ the dead and wounded, the brutality of the POW camp, the horrors of Viet Nam, was to invite nightmares. To _remember_ and then move on was better.

Face, B. A. and he had things to occupy themselves while keeping out of the hands of the military. They led semi-normal lives. Each of them prepared their own meals, decided for themselves when to go to bed, entertained themselves in a myriad of ways.

What did Murdock have but people surrounding him, reminding him that he had physically survived the worst of the war but was too psychologically damaged to be allowed a normal life?

_This return to his childhood home is the closest thing to normality he has had for almost twenty years. The V. A. hospital should never have become home for him. That routine should never have become his normal life. _

Hannibal closed his eyes with the wave of self-condemnation that threatened to overwhelm him.

_Come on, John. There was no way you could have kept Murdock from hurtling over the edge. But why him and not any of the rest of us? And could I have prevented it somehow? _

A rustling of the crisp hospital sheets jolted the Colonel from his meditation.

_Did I fall asleep? _

Murdock's hands were clenching and unclenching and his breaths were coming in short gasps. His lips were moving but all that escaped was a barely discernible whisper.

His head turning back and forth on the pillows, the pilot's face tightened with fear. He flung his arms up toward his face as if warding off an attack. The IV tubing caught on the bed rail and ripped out, blood streaming down his arm and onto his face and hospital gown.

The needles of the galvanometer jerked furiously up and down, creating large pointed peaks that were close together on the paper.

_A nightmare. How does Face bring him out of one of these? Think, John, think. _

"Murdock." He spoke quietly, standing as he did but keeping his distance. The IV would require a nurse's attention but first the pilot needed to be brought back from whatever hell he was seeing in his dream.

A whimper escaped the patient's lips before his back arched. His arms went rigid on either side of him and his leg muscles tensed for several seconds before violently shuddering and eventually relaxing.

Hannibal froze as the spasms continued with only a minute in between. As horrifying as the nightmare was, the seizure was worse. Murdock's back bowed to such a degree that the Colonel was certain his spine would crack.

Fumbling for the call button and punching it, Hannibal rasped out, "Nurse!"

oooooo

When B. A. arrived at six o'clock Wednesday morning for his shift, Face and Hannibal were sitting in chairs on either side of Murdock's bed. Both men were haggard and quiet.

"Thought you'd be comin' back to the farm, Faceman. Didn't expect to see you here." The Sergeant nodded to the Lieutenant as he took his place at the foot of the bed and waited for one of the men to go out to the van to attend to Winton.

"I didn't expect to _be_ here." Face turned his attention back to the pilot. For the first time, the black man noticed the electrodes and the machine recording the brain waves and frowned.

"How come he's hooked up to 'nother machine, Hannibal? Looks too much like electroshock to me. They ain' doin' _that_ to him, are they?"

The Colonel winced, realizing that perhaps the pilot had subconsciously thought the same thing in his nightmare state.

"Murdock's had two seizures in the past eight hours." Hannibal's tone was subdued as he scrutinized B. A.'s face for his reaction.

"Seizures? You mean like foamin' at the mouth, eyes rollin' back in the head and arms and legs jerkin' all over?" The black man's forehead creased with concern.

"His seizures were bad but not as bad as that. Doctor Freedman wants to run some tests to find out why he had them. That means you'll have to accompany him into the room where the doctor does the spinal tap." Hannibal stood to allow B. A. to sit down. The Sergeant dropped into the chair, his somber eyes fixed on the unconscious pilot and the gently moving needles of the machine beside the bed.

"Uh, Colonel." Face hesitated as he glanced at B. A. and then at Hannibal. "I kind of promised I'd be right beside him when he went for those tests."

"You need sleep, too, Lieutenant." The older man gave him a worried look.

"I have to stick around for Cyndy anyway. She's having blood drawn to check her sodium and potassium levels and a few more muscle function tests. Doctor Freedman should be giving us the results of the X-rays and tests they ran yesterday." Face swallowed and tried to smile. "I'll bring her home as soon as she's clear to go and after Murdock is finished with his tests."

"We'll _both_ be with the fool when he gets those tests done," B. A. growled. "I ain' lettin' him outta my sight."

Hannibal yawned. "If he has another seizure or you get any results back on those tests, call me. I'll be sleeping in the van next to the phone. I'll come back to relieve you in about eight hours. You, Lieutenant, are going to have to take our friend Winton for a little ride while B. A. prepares the barn for phase two of our operation."

The Colonel motioned for Face to follow him out of the room and into the parking lot. As soon as the door closed behind them, Hannibal crossed his arms and stood looking at the Lieutenant.

"I want to know something and I want your answer to be honest. Will your relationship with Miss Berquon get in the way of the plan?"

Face opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and glared down at the asphalt. When he finally spoke, his voice was raw with emotion. "I don't know what you mean by that, Hannibal."

"Do I need to spell it out for you? You can't tell her anything about what's going to happen tomorrow. She's a good actress but she isn't _that_ good. If you say anything, McKeever might sense what's going on. Murdock will be as good as dead if he does." The Colonel's eyes bored into the younger man.

"That means I'll have to lie to her. It won't be easy on her. You know that." The Lieutenant met Hannibal's gaze.

"Then you can stay back at the farm with Winton tomorrow while Miss Berquon, B. A. and I come to see Murdock."

"Why does she have to be here at all? Why can't you and B. A. handle it?" Face forced the words out.

"Because she'll lend authenticity to Murdock's performance. If she doesn't know what's really going on, her grief and tears will convince McKeever." Hannibal's features softened. "It'll only be until the plan's completed."

"Yeah, but your plans don't ever work as expected. And this one has the potential to drive a wedge in Murdock and Cyndy's friendship that won't heal. Not to mention what she'll think of me for letting her hurt without telling her." Face scuffed the toe of his shoe against the wall as he talked.

"You have to choose then, Lieutenant. Your relationship with Cyndy or Murdock's life." The two men stood for several moments staring at each other. Without saying another word, Face walked back through the rear exit door.


	92. Chapter 92 Two Girlfriends

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 92 Two Girlfriends

She arrived as the electrodes were being removed from Murdock's head. Her gaze took in the muscular Sergeant standing with crossed arms at the edge of the curtain and the shadows of the nurse through the fabric of the screen.

"B. A.? Is that you?"

The black man turned his head in her direction. Giving the patient an uncomfortable glance, he seemed to be trying to make up his mind about something. There was no sound from the bed except for the soft murmur of the nurse as she explained to a Mister McGilvery what she was doing.

B. A. shot one more unhappy look at the patient before approaching the visitor and giving her a small embrace. "Hey, Dani girl. We weren't expectin' you. How'd you find us?"

"I checked the Nederland Community Theater to see if any of you were there and met Mrs. Bartleman. Nice lady. She was overjoyed to see that H. M.'s girl from L. A. was in town. She told me what name to ask for at the desk." She pursed her lips as she pulled back from the hug and headed toward the place at the curtain B. A. had vacated. "She said he was very sick."

"Dani." The Sergeant followed, grasping her arm before she could see anything. "How 'bout we get some coffee, let the nurse finish her work here. They don't really like anyone standin' over the top of 'em."

Her forehead puckered in a frown. She shot a quick look over her shoulder at the curtain but she allowed B. A. to lead her to the door and out.

As they passed Cyndy's room, the Sergeant poked his head in the open door. "Hey, Faceman. _Look who's here._"

Face recognized the desperation in his voice and saw Dani standing beside him in the hallway. A look of wide-eyed alarm was quickly replaced by an artificial pleased smile as the Lieutenant rose to his feet.

"Dani. Well, how are you? What brings you here?" As soon as Face said it, he realized his mistake. B. A. scowled a warning, unseen by the young woman. He tried to cover the blunder. "There's someone here I'd like for you to meet." Holding out his hand to her, he hoped she would accept his offer and let B. A. get back to Murdock's room.

"_B. A._ wants me to go have coffee with him. _You_ want me to meet someone. I haven't even _seen_ H. M. yet. _What's going on that you're not telling me? How bad is he?_" She stood just outside the doorway with her hands on her hips and her eyes flashing with frustration and anger. Though she looked fierce Face noticed her lower lip quivering slightly like she was holding back tears.

"Hannibal would be a better one to ask than either of us, Dani." The Lieutenant swallowed hard and glanced toward Cyndy.

She frowned at him and cocked her head in puzzlement. "Temp? What's going on?"

He swallowed again and sat back down in the chair beside Cyndy's bed. "Nothing, Angel. Nothing at all. Just one of our friends from L. A. I'd like you to meet if she'd come in here." He gave the young woman in the hallway one of Murdock's trademark pleading expressions.

With an exasperated look at B. A. and Face, Dani composed herself and entered the room. B. A. rolled his eyes behind her back and gestured toward the end of the hallway before returning to Murdock's room.

Now that Dani was in the room, Face suddenly realized how awkward this meeting could be if not handled properly.

He adjusted his tie to release some of the pressure he was feeling and cleared his throat. "Well, uh . . . Dani, this is Miss Cynthia Berquon. Cyndy, this is Daniela Scalatini from L. A. . . . uh, California."

Cyndy had a thoughtful expression on her face as she reached out her hand and smiled. "Dani? You must be the nurse at the V. A. hospital Temp's told me about. H. M.'s girlfriend?"

Dani arched an eyebrow at Face. "I hope he didn't say anything bad about me."

"Oh, no. No, he didn't." Cyndy blushed. "He said you were the one most responsible for helping H. M. recover after the war."

Face noticed a tinge of sadness in Cyndy's tone and peeked at Dani to see if she detected it.

"I can't claim all of the responsibility for that. But thanks." Dani smiled back at the young woman in the bed.

"You know, I think I'll slip out and see if I can't round up three cups of coffee for us. Then we can talk for a while until Murdock wakes up. Okay?" The Lieutenant offered his seat and moved out into the hallway as quickly as he could. Shaking his head, he walked to the cafeteria, thankful that for now he didn't have to explain anything to either young lady.

oooooo

A half hour after B. A. returned to Murdock's side, an orderly rapped on the door before nudging it open with his back and bringing in a wheelchair.

"It's time for Mister McGilvery's lumbar puncture," he announced, positioning the wheelchair beside the bed and locking the brakes. The orderly frowned down at the unconscious patient. "He needs to be awake to have this procedure done."

Too late, B. A. drew in a breath to warn him. Reaching with his hand to touch Murdock on the shoulder, the orderly wasn't prepared for the pilot's reaction. His hand clenched into a fist, Murdock swung his arm with as much force as he could and clouted the young man across the head. The orderly lost his balance and fell to the floor.

Dazed, he slowly and carefully sat up, propping one hand behind himself . "What the hell?" He rubbed his head with the other hand and squinted up at B. A. "Why'd he do that?"

"You never been 'round war vets much, have you? Let me." The Sergeant came closer to the bed and growled, "Wake up, fool. Time to get outta bed. We got a job to do.

The pilot's eyelids fluttered open. His wild-eyed examination of his surroundings told B. A. he was not totally awake yet.

"We movin' out, fool. You gonna be left behind or do I gotta carry you?" The Sergeant anxiously watched for signs that Murdock recognized him. He hoped no one in Cyndy's room heard the commotion.

"H. M.?" Even without looking, B. A. identified the voice and groaned inside. "B. A., stand back and let me talk to him."

Dani drifted closer as the Sergeant gave her room, grateful she was occupied with waking Murdock up and not with asking questions.

Her gaze flickered across the pilot's face, observing the fading bruises around the eye, the crooked stitches closing the healing gash, his pallor and gaunt appearance, the CPAP mask covering his nose. She darted an accusing look at B. A. before beginning to speak.

"H. M. It's Dani. Do you know where you are? Can you tell me?" Murdock focused on her face, his brown eyes dilated and confused. His gaze swept down to the drainage tube, the IV and his bandaged wrist.

"Where . . . am I?" he whispered.

She tried again. "H. M., do you remember coming back to Sour Lake to your grandparents' farm? You said you were going to act in a play. _Henry IV,_ you told me. Do you remember doing that?"

He closed his eyes and took in a shuddering breath. "Dani?"

She bent over the bed and stroked back his hair. "I've missed you so much, H. M." Gently kissing his forehead, she turned to B. A. The furious flash in her eyes had returned. "I presume someone was going to let me know about all of this . . . " She gestured toward the chest drainage tube, the IV, the mask and the bandages around his fingers and his wrist. "Or were you?"

Before B. A. could speak, the orderly cleared his throat. "Uh, I was supposed to take Mister McGilvery down for his spinal tap. If you wouldn't mind letting me get him in the chair . . . "

"Spinal tap?" Dani gasped and reached for Murdock's hand.


	93. Chapter 93 Neither of Them

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 93 Neither of Them

Murdock's hands gripped the arms of the wheelchair as he was transported through the hospital hallways. He stared dully ahead of him, angry that his arguments against having any more procedures had been squashed. After learning of the two seizures, Dani insisted upon the tests and would not allow his protest to overrule what she felt was best for him.

Face glanced at Dani's expression as they followed the orderly and the wheelchair toward the room in which the spinal tap would be done. Her lips were set in a firm thin line and her eyes had not lost their fury. Her posture and walk indicated she was not open to reconciliatory apologies or reasonable defenses from either of them yet. She refused to look at the Lieutenant and, though she said she wanted to be close by Murdock when he had the procedure, she became rather quiet and distant with him, too.

_Hell hath no fury . . . I don't know who she's angriest with: Hannibal, Murdock or me. All of us are in hot water for keeping the truth from her. The only one who seems to have escaped her wrath is B. A. _

Yet even B. A. made a pretext of calling Hannibal from the room phone instead of joining the others. Face remembered the black man's furtive glances at the fuming couple and his obvious relief when Dani accepted his excuse.

_I wish the Big Guy had come with us. Sure could use his protection against Dani right about now. If looks could kill, . . . _

Face remembered his last conversation with Hannibal and felt his stomach churn. Dani's present anger was going to be _nothing_ compared to the rage both women would have after Hannibal's plan was finished, when they discovered Murdock had only been pretending to be dead.

_I don't know what I'd rather face: both Dani and Cyndy after they find out we faked Murdock's death, McKeever when he knows he's been captured or a miffed grizzly bear in the wild. _

In an effort to lighten the mood and avoid Dani's ferocious glances, the Lieutenant moved into position beside the wheelchair and looked down at Murdock as they walked. "So . . . you ever had this done before . . . a spinal tap, I mean?"

Murdock turned sullen eyes toward him. In a petulant tone he snapped, "What d'ya think?"

"Just asking." Face hesitated. "It must not be very pleasant."

_Just the look on your face tells me that._

"Do dogs bark?" Murdock muttered and turned his head away to stare at the rooms they were passing.

_Okay. He won't even look at me. What's up with that? I didn't force him to have a spinal tap. _

"Well, I said I'd be there with you whatever needs to be done, and I will."

_I'm trying here, buddy. Give me a break. It wasn't my fault Dani showed up when she did. _

The orderly coughed. "The doctors usually don't let anybody but the patient and medical staff come into the room. It _is_ considered a surgical procedure. Sterile environment and all, you know."

The pilot nodded impatiently as if anticipating the comment. "Jus' poke me, get the stuff ya need 'n' get me back ta the room."

Face gave his friend a surprised glance at the harsh rasp in his voice.

"And here we are." The orderly paused before the doors. "You can wait in the family room over there." He pointed but neither Face nor Dani took a step toward it.

"I want to talk to the neurosurgeon doing the procedure." Dani lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes at the orderly. With a frown, the young man opened his mouth to answer. The assertive nurse planted her feet shoulder width apart and crossed her arms.

Before the orderly could say a word, Murdock gave him a bitter half-smile. "If I was you, I'd do what she says. She gets you in a head lock, yer done for." He met Dani's annoyed look with one of his own.

The attendant glanced at the patient and the young woman, then at Face who shrugged. "Doctor Freedman gave instructions that one of Mister McGilvery's friends were to accompany him everywhere he has to go. If you need to argue the point with the doctor, you're free to do that. We can wait."

The door to the procedure room opened and the neurosurgeon poked his head out, an impatient scowl pinching his features. "What's the delay, Stauffer? Bring Mister McGilvery in."

"His friends here want to come in with him. I tried to explain to them . . . " the orderly stammered and gestured toward Dani and the Lieutenant.

"Doctor Freedman cleared it for Mister McGilvery's friend to come in while the procedure is done." The neurosurgeon let out an exasperated sigh and looked from one to the other. "Which one of you will it be?"

Both Dani and Face said, "Me," and stepped forward at the same time.

Dani glared at the Lieutenant while she spoke to the neurosurgeon. "I'm a registered nurse, doctor. I can help with the patient."

Face gulped.

_Oh boy. Hannibal isn't going to like this at all. _

"Uh, when Doctor Freedman set up the procedure, he was assuming I would be the one to accompany Mister McGilvery into the room." Face gave Dani an apologetic smile and took another step forward.

_Besides, a promise is a promise. _

"Neither of 'em." Murdock said it quietly but firmly, frowning down at the IV in his arm and picking at his bandaged wrist. "I'm not a child. Let's jus' get 'er done, 'kay?" He shot the orderly an irritated look before putting his hands back on the chair's arm rests.

"Shall we, gentlemen?" Without any more words, the neurosurgeon retreated into the room.

As Face and Dani watched in stunned silence, the orderly backed the chair through the open door. Before it closed, Murdock squeezed his eyes shut and tightened his grip on the chair arms. Every muscle in his lean frame seemed to tense in preparation for what was to follow.


	94. Chapter 94 Spinal Tap

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 94 Spinal Tap

"What do you think you were doing?" Dani hissed her angry question at Face as they walked toward the family room. "I've been in the room with other patients when this procedure's been done. I'm better qualified."

"But you're also his girlfriend. I made a promise to him last night that I wouldn't let him go through _any_ of this alone." Face ran his hand through his hair in exasperation as they found seats next to each other in the waiting room.

_And now he is. Hannibal is not going to be pleased. _

"Well, he wouldn't have if you hadn't argued about who was going to be in there with him for the lumbar puncture." She exhaled an irritated quick breath and stared down at the mauve carpeting.

For five minutes neither spoke. The young lady finally propped her elbow on the armrest and partially covered her face with her hand. Her expression was one of exhaustion and worry. The Lieutenant peeked sideways at Dani. The dark smudges under her eyes betrayed how little she had slept since the call Monday morning which alerted her to the pilot's condition.

_This was a lot for her to walk into all at once. Murdock would want us to get along, to help each other through all of this. _

Reaching out tentatively to take her hand, he breathed in and asked the question that was first in his mind. He wasn't sure she would answer. "So what do they have to do when they do one of these? How painful is it?"

She chewed on her lower lip and stared at the door where Murdock had been taken. For a couple of minutes, she seemed to consider her response. "Well, it's treated like a surgical type procedure. They'll paint the area with tincture of iodine and sterile sheets will be draped around the spot where the needles will go in."

"Needles? More than one?" Face followed her gaze to the door of the procedure room.

She nodded. "H. M. will likely be asked to lie on his side and curl up into a fetal position. That makes a larger space between the vertebrae. The first needles will be a local anesthetic to the general area where the cerebrospinal fluid will be taken from."

"You said needles again. Plural." He swallowed, an involuntary shiver passing through his body. "Sorry. Hospitals and I don't get along very well and especially not when it involves needles."

She patted his hand in sympathy. "I understand. H. M.'s used to needles by now. He doesn't like them but he's used to them. These have to not only numb the upper layer of skin but also have to go into the deeper tissues. If they didn't, the 'tap' part of the procedure would hurt worse."

The Lieutenant felt the bile rise up in his throat. He paused, thinking about what she said for a minute. "So it does hurt."

"I haven't ever had one, but a patient once told me it was like an intense pressure point in the lower spine that continues for several minutes. I've held patients' hands during the procedure and almost felt like they were going to rip my _own_ off by the time it was over. It _has _to hurt pretty bad." She looked down at her hands as if to check that they were still there. "That's why I wanted to be in there."

"How long does it last?"

"The whole thing takes about fifteen minutes. They don't draw the fluid like taking a blood sample. It's more that they let the fluid drip into three or four vials. That's about all I can tell you." Her expression softened when she saw his concern for Murdock. Taking his hand, she murmured, "This had to be done. You know that. It's the only way to understand why H. M. started having seizures now when he hasn't in the past."

Face gave her a questioning look. "B. A. and I assumed he had something like this before in the psychiatric ward."

"No, he hasn't. I do have _some_ access to his medical files, you know. One of the advantages of working in the hospital where he's at."

The young orderly brought a gurney to the door of the procedure room and backed in with it.

Face got to his feet in a panic, ready to storm into the room. "Why do they need that? What's happened to him?"

"It's okay. Just settle down. H. M. will have to remain lying down on his back for at least two hours. If he sits up or moves around, he's more likely to have a very bad headache. That must mean he's about ready to be transferred back to his room." Dani stood and slowly walked across the hall, the Lieutenant following. At the door, she turned and stared into Face's eyes. "I'm going to need you or B. A. or both of you to help me make sure he stays put."

The Lieutenant nodded, his expression solemn. "I'll try but you know how stubborn he is."

The door opened and the orderly backed out of the room with the gurney.

Murdock's eyes were glassy with tears and his features were still set in a grimace. Trembling hands clenched the edges of the mattress.

He looked up into Dani's misty eyes. Giving him a loving smile, she tenderly stroked the side of his face with her fingertips. "Hey you," she whispered. "You okay?"

He reached for her hand and held it to his cheek. Closing his eyes, he nodded slightly and swallowed the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry I made ya worry, darlin'. When ya called I shoulda had 'em tell ya what was goin' on with me." He opened his eyes and searched her face as he rasped, "Forgive me?"

Biting her lower lip to hold back tears, she nodded and gave him a light kiss on the lips.

Face cleared his throat. Standing behind her with his hands in his pockets, he flashed Murdock and Dani a cautious smile. "Now that the two of you aren't ready to tear each other's heads off, think we can get back to the room? I have to find out how Cyndy's doing."

"Cyndy." A worried frown appeared on Murdock's face and he twisted on the gurney to address the Lieutenant. "Ain' ya heard nothin' 'bout those tests yet?"

"Lie still, H. M. You'll give yourself a headache." Dani gently pushed his shoulders back onto the mattress. Cupping his cheek with her hand, she made him look at her. "I love you but you've got to behave yourself." She smiled and added, "Or I'll have B. A. sit on you."

Murdock pretended to pout but his eyes showed how much he was glad she was there to care for him.

As the orderly pushed the gurney through the hallways, Face followed, letting Dani walk beside the pilot. Murdock kept his gaze on her the entire way back to his room. He seemed to be memorizing every feature of her face as if he wouldn't be seeing her ever again.

oooooo

Hannibal glared in the rear view mirror at Winton in the back seat as he parked in the hospital lot. B. A.'s call about Dani's arrival had caught him off guard and his mood was still sour. He thought he had convinced her to remain in California. This could spell trouble for the plan to capture McKeever.

"I'll lock the doors while I'm in there but it's up to you to stay out of sight. As soon as I can, I'll have someone come out to take you back to the farm."

Winton nodded and moved further into the shadows of the van. "Jus' don' be too long, Smith. Lunchtime's soon 'n' my stomach's rumblin'. You ain' much of a cook." He snorted. "Frosted flakes 'n' milk fer breakfast?"

His protest was cut short as Hannibal locked the van and slammed the driver's door shut.

The Colonel scowled, Murdock's duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and walked quickly to the exit door.

_I have bigger concerns than Winton's diet. How am I going to talk to Murdock about his "death" with Miss Scalatini there in the room? I don't know his plans and I don't like not knowing. _

"And why he wanted his duffel bag when he's going to be leaving the hospital in a hearse, I wish I knew," Hannibal grumbled as he pushed open the door.


	95. Chapter 95 Man Business

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 95 Man Business

"Glad ya could make it, Colonel." Murdock gave him a weak salute from the hospital bed where he lay flat on his back. Fully turning his head toward Hannibal, his gaze fell on the duffel bag his CO carried. He flinched at the sight of it and then said carelessly to cover up his reaction, "Ya can drop that bag here 'side the bed. I'm gonna want somethin' outta it in a while."

Hannibal looked around the room. Dani rested in the bedside chair. B. A. relinquished it to her after the orderly and nurse settled Murdock back into bed. B. A. stood by the window looking down at the patient. Face was nowhere to be seen.

"Let me guess. Face must be in Miss Berquon's room." The Colonel narrowed icy blue eyes at B. A. and placed the bag within the pilot's reach on the right side of the bed.

"He says doc cleared 'er ta check out. She's goin' home soon's she can get dressed." Murdock's voice had a bitter edge to it. "Least _she_ gets to."

"You will, too, H. M. Just give the antibiotics a chance to work." Dani grasped his hand to reassure him. "And I'm staying right here beside you. I'm not leaving unless B. A. here carries me out on his back. But I'll go kicking and screaming."

Murdock's eyes flickered up at the Sergeant. A silent message passed between them before the pilot's gaze focused back on Hannibal.

"The Colonel 'n' me's gotta talk, darlin'. Got some man business to hash out." He winced at the hurt expression on her face. He opened his arms out to her as widely the IV tubing would allow. "Aw, c'mere and give me a big ol' hug to 'member ya by for the itty bitty time we're 'part. I'd rather have a kiss but the damn mask gets in the way." She hesitated and he gave her his best pleading look. "Please. Pretty please with anchovies on top?"

B. A. shot a disgusted scowl his way and snorted.

The injured look still in her eyes, Dani sat on the edge of the bed. Leaning over him and laying her head on his chest, she let Murdock envelop her in his arms. He stroked the back of her hair while he added, "It'll only be for a little while. The Big Guy can take ya down to the cafeteria, get you some _real_ coffee, not the sludge they have in the waiting room. Right, Big Guy?"

The Sergeant's voice was gruff as he gently helped her to her feet and escorted her to the door. "Let's you an' me get some breakfast, too. That is, if ya didn't eat already."

Looking back over his shoulder, B. A. was pleased to see a solemn nod of thanks from Murdock.

Hannibal closed the door after them and drew the chair closer to the bed before sitting down. "We need to talk, Captain."

The pilot let out a prolonged breath and closed his eyes. "I know." His eyelids opened halfway to gaze at the Colonel. "Jus' ain' often ya get to talk 'bout how yer gonna die. Not 'xactly the kinda thing that makes for a fun mornin'." He paused and said, "B. A.'s gotta get that barn ready. Gonna be difficult ta get all that done with the two womenfolk hangin' 'round ta see what yer doin'. Faceman got hol' of a hearse 'n' body bag yet? Can't start with phase one 'til he does. 'N' I don' need ta remind ya that time's runnin' out 'fore Friday's performance."

"I have to get him to focus more on that and less on Miss Berquon's condition. But he knows he has to get it done and without Miss Berquon knowing about it. We may have to send the young ladies on a wild goose chase so he can." Hannibal smiled. "I think if you gave them a shopping list of things you'd like to have while you're in the hospital, both ladies would bend over backwards to get those things."

Murdock nodded. "I'll see what I can do 'bout that."

"This is going to be the performance of your life, Captain. A good death scene is worth a thousand words. I'll ask again, think you're up to it?" The Colonel's questioning gaze produced a somber return look and a nod.

"Doc knows what ta do. Guess Face got 'im 'lone yesterday durin' one a Cyndy's tests 'n' tol' 'im." A grimace appeared on his face. "Dani's gonna be trouble if she gets too close ta me after doc declares me dead. She's gonna know the difference."

Hannibal raised his eyebrows. "We need the two ladies to think you're dead so they can convince your father through their reactions."

Murdock 's expression grew pensive. "I got a idea but I can't tell ya what it is. I need ya to have doc rustle up a couple a amyl nitrite capsules 'n' 'splain to you how to use 'em. Yer also gonna need 'im to round up a syringe fulla sodium nitrite."

"I can do that. Mind telling me why?" The Colonel frowned as Murdock shook his head and gave him a sad determined smile.

"Ya wouldn' let me go through with it if I tol' ya. But if we want my Pa and Winton outta the picture 'n' in the hands o' the law, ya gotta let me." The pilot's troubled gaze wandered toward the window. "When Face comes to collect up my body with the hearse ya gotta time it jus' right. Ya gotta start treatin' me with the amyl nitrite right 'way 'n' follow 'er up with the sodium nitrite. Soon as ya stabilize me, ya can let me hide out in the ol' hay shed 'til we know Pa's comin' ta get Winton."

Hannibal pursed his lips and tried to get the Captain to look at him. "I would feel more comfortable knowing the type of timing we're looking at."

Murdock gave the Colonel a look so dark, he flinched. "Let's jus' say there's _no_ room for error 'r delay."

oooooo

Later that afternoon Dani and a newly released Cyndy drove in Cyndy's El Camino to the nearest shopping mall.

Skimming the list they had been given, Dani glanced across to the young woman driving. "I almost feel like we're on a scavenger hunt with some of the things H. M. has on this list, don't you? I mean, 'the latest issues of _Superman_, _Metal Men_ and _The Fantastic Four_?' A 'dark brown plaid flannel long-sleeved shirt,' 'a T-shirt with the word _crazy_ or _insane_ somewhere on it'? 'A giant-sized bag of animal crackers'? 'A Nerf football'?"

Cyndy's eyes softened as she smiled. "Those are exactly the type of things H. M. _would_ ask for. This should be fun and it'll give _us_ a little more time to talk and get to know each other."

Dani smiled back at her. "I'm sure glad we met. I think we could get to be really good friends. We seem to have quite a bit in common."

Dani looked out the passenger's window as Cyndy thought about the comment and bit the inside of her lip to hold back tears.


	96. Chapter 96 Preparations and Shopping

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 96 Preparations and Shopping Trips

Standing outside the old hay shed in the back pasture, B. A. stirred the T-shirt, flannel shirt, khaki pants, socks and high top tennies in the barrel of phosphorescent paint. He was glad to have Face take Winton off his hands for a while. Sending the two women on that shopping trip was a stroke of genius, too, B. A. thought to himself.

_What woman don' like ta shop? An' especially if it's with 'nother woman an' for someone she's sweet on. _

The Sergeant draped each item of clothing over nails pounded into the outside walls of the structure. As soon as he was finished with this project, he had to prepare the barn for McKeever's arrival.

_One o' Hannibal's craziest schemes yet. But for the fool's sake, sure hope it works. _

oooooo

Face scowled at the ex security guard sitting next to him in the Corvette. They were taking a long circuitous route to the Nederland Community Theater on the pretense that the conman had to make sure the programs had been printed and delivered for the weekend performances.

"Why can' th' ol' lady do that herself? Gettin' me 'way from the farm makes me a bigger target fer McKeever, don' it?" Winton grumbled, keeping his eyes on the rearview mirror.

"Doctor Freedman checked the work staff schedule at the hospital. He knows every time McKeever is supposed to be working during the next five days and right now, McKeever is working." Face kept his eyes on the road. "I'll drop you off soon enough back at the farm. So shut up and enjoy the ride."

Winton sneered and turned his eyes to the passing scenery on the Old Sour Lake Road.

oooooo

"H. M. sure has the strangest tastes sometimes, doesn't he?" Dani mused to Cyndy as they scoured the racks of T-shirts for one with the words Murdock had requested. "Ooh, here's one! What about this?" She held out a shirt with a dark brown background, red lettering and a white car underneath the words.

Cyndy smirked as she read the logo. "'If you want to drive me crazy, you need a Corvette'? That would fit two men we both know, wouldn't it?"

The nurse from L. A. chuckled to herself and nodded. "Oh, definitely." She held the shirt up to herself. "So what do you think? Should we get it for him?"

"I think he'll like it."

"Well, that's another thing crossed off the list." Dani took the pen from her pocket and made a checkmark beside the item. "You never told me how long you've known H. M."

Cyndy blushed and said in a subdued voice, "We went all the way through school together."

The other young woman hesitated, her eyes scanning the men's clothing section. "There's the flannel shirts." She walked toward them as she talked. "Just from H. M.'s reaction when Face mentioned your name and the tests, I take it you two were very close at one time." Seeing Cyndy's reaction, she frowned. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want. In fact, we can completely change the subject. I was just curious."

With Dani scrutinizing her face in puzzlement and concern, Cyndy tried to smile. "H. M. asked me to marry him before he disappeared from the area and went away to Viet Nam. I guess a lot happened over there to hurt him. Until he came back here I thought he had completely forgotten me." As the other woman raised her eyebrows with sudden suspicion, she reached out and squeezed her arm to reassure her. "Don't worry. It's you he loves now. And I accept that. Besides . . . " She got a playful look on her face. " . . . Temp is _more_ than enough to handle without trying to rekindle any old flame."

Cyndy hoped her expression and words were convincing. Deep inside she knew they weren't completely true.

Dani breathed a sigh of relief and laughed. "He is that, isn't he?" Turning to the rack of shirts, she picked one out and held it up to herself. "What do you think? It's long-sleeved, dark brown, it's plaid, it's got some red in it and it coordinates with the T-shirt."

"I like it." Cyndy nodded approvingly and gave Dani a sudden brief hug. "You know, just like Temp and H. M. are best friends and almost like brothers, maybe you and I could be best friends and like sisters."

"Maybe we could." Dani tossed the shirt into the shopping basket and smiled. "Let's pay for this and go get some coffee, sis."

oooooo

"So you figure the seizures were from something he was given?" Hannibal analyzed the expression on Doctor Freedman's face and then glanced at Murdock.

"Ya know which drugs, doc?" The pilot had his hands folded on his chest in an attitude of tranquility. Hannibal knew the next twenty four hours were going to be excruciating for the younger man when he had to quell his normal activity level and act as if he were becoming weaker and sicker. For now, he seemed at peace.

"It's not very common but there have been some patients who were given clarithromycin and had subsequent seizures. What we can do now that Mister . . . McGilvery is awake most of the time is switch to an oral form of amoxicillin and stop the clarithromycin." Doctor Freedman frowned. "As far as the other matter, the sodium nitrite and the amyl nitrite . . . I'll see you out in the parking lot, Colonel. No one is to know I gave you these or I could get into trouble."

The doctor stared at Murdock and shook his head. "I don't think I want to know why you requested those two particular drugs. If it's for the reason I think, I would have to prevent you from doing it."

"Well then, doc, my lips're sealed." Murdock put his hand firmly over his mouth. Hannibal looked from the doctor to the Captain, uncomfortable with the realization that whatever the doctor knew about Murdock's plan, it was dangerous enough for him to consider stopping it. "Besides, doc, ya know ya'd do jus' 'bout anythin' ta save the theater. Now if you guys don' mind, I need some time ta think."

"I shouldn't leave you alone in the room." The Colonel hesitated.

"Aw, I'll be jus' fine for a couple a minutes. If my Pa comes in, I'll jus' play dead." Hannibal cast a sharp glance at the pilot. There was something about the wild look in the younger man's gaze that didn't seem right. "Don' worry, Hann'bal. I can't start my act 'til we know Faceman 'n' B. A.'s ready. They ain' called yet so I gotta wait. I'll be 'live when ya get back. Trust me."

As Hannibal left the room with the doctor, Murdock dangled a hand over the edge of the bed and dragged his duffel bag up to his chest. Digging around inside, he cursed under his breath until he found what he was searching for: a small round metal tin about the size of a saltine cracker. Palming it, he dropped the bag to the floor beside the bed and tucked the tin in the thin drawer of the overbed table.

Satisfied, he pressed back into the pillows, closed his eyes and began to hum "This Old Man" to himself.


	97. Chapter 97 Good To Go

Death Waits In the Wings

AN: It should go without saying that what Murdock is planning should not be done by anyone.

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 97 Good To Go

Face's phone call came when Hannibal was with Doctor Freedman outside the exit doors. Stretching his arm toward the bedside table, Murdock fumbled for the receiver.

"Hello-oh. Murdock's Mortuary. Check out our special rate on urns suitable for rocket launching." His mouth formed a humorless smirk.

_Don' gotta guess who's callin' the room. 'N' if they're callin', it means we're primed ta go. _

"Yeah, Faceman." A pause, then, "Hannibal's talkin' to the doc 'n' the gals're out shoppin' for stuff for me."

Another pause. His eyes took on a hardened look. "So we're good ta go?" Pause. "Guess I'll start my act then. This'll take some time. Listen. Soon as ya get me in that hearse, make sure Hannibal makes me throw up, then uses the amyl nitrite and sodium nitrite on me. Ya gotta make sure you're here tomorrow mornin' in disguise at oh-ten hundred sharp." He listened for a minute, his jaw muscles twitching with tension. "That's right. Oh-ten hundred sharp, Faceman. Don' be late." His hand was shaking so badly as he hung up the phone he could barely get it into the cradle. He closed his eyes for a moment to settle his nerves and silently cursed the anxiety sweeping through his system.

_C'mon. It ain' like you don' know what yer doin'. _

A counter-thought raced through his mind, threatening to destroy his resolve: _'T all depends on timin'. Doc don' declare me dead at jus' the right time, Faceman gets here one minute too late, Hann'bal doesn' do what he's s'posed ta do . . . _

He stared at the drawer of the overbed table for a few moments, too many memories and thoughts jockeying in his mind for attention. As he heard the faint sound of a cart approaching the room from down the hallway, he closed his eyes. The knock at the door made him jolt. He forced himself to hyperventilate and tightly clutched the blankets between rigid fingers. Every fourth or fifth breath he paused and gasped as if struggling to breathe.

_Time to start pretendin'. Hope whoever this is, it's a short visit. _

Billy's voice came to him as clearly as when he was feverish and delusional. "I'm here with you, brother. Just a little more time 'n' Pa'll never hurt ya 'gain."

oooooo

"I won't tell you my suspicions, Colonel Smith, because thinking about it, it seems implausible. He couldn't possibly have access to anything like that. Just forget I said anything." The doctor frowned down at his shoes.

Hannibal placed the amyl nitrite ampules, the syringe and the vial of sodium nitrite in a deep pocket of his new safari jacket and snapped the flap shut. "Well, what are these two drugs used for? You can tell me that."

The doctor gave Hannibal a piercing troubled look. "Well, amyl nitrite is given to someone when they are suffering an episode of angina pectoris."

"In English, doc?" The Colonel felt an icy hand clench his insides and squeeze.

"A heart attack, Smith. In layman's terms, a heart attack."

oooooo

McKeever paused outside the door of Murdock's room and listened for any sound of voices inside. Hearing nothing, he knocked at the door. When there was still no sound from within, he opened it and poked his head inside.

Alone in the room, his son appeared to be in a state of respiratory distress even with the CPAP mask on.

_Maybe I won' hafta do anythin' but help 'im 'long. Don' have a lotta time 'fore that guy comes back. _

He left the cart in the hallway and grabbed the cleaning supply carrier before entering the room. Drifting to the overbed table, he set the carrier on the floor and removed the top from the half full water pitcher. He selected a bottle of liquid sanitizer and disinfectant and started to remove the child-proof cap, watching the door as he did.

Glancing up at his son's face, McKeever drew back with a start when he saw two brown eyes staring at him. Murdock's right hand snaked out and curled around his father's wrist, pulling him closer. The searching gaze his son gave him made his heart pound harder in his chest.

_Why's he lookin' at me like that? He should hate me . . . but he don'. I can see that. _

The patient's breathing was still labored but his grasp was strong enough to make the older man wince.

"Let go o' me, boy," McKeever hissed as he gripped the bottle in his other hand and brought it down hard on Murdock's wrist.

The pilot groaned, dropped his hold and clutched at his injured wrist. Blood oozed through the gauze encircling it. His eyes squeezed shut.

"Pa . . . " he gasped before McKeever lashed out with the bottle again and caught Murdock across the healing gash on his temple. The pilot lapsed into a dazed state as McKeever grabbed his cleaning supplies and hurried from the room.

oooooo

Cyndy turned the corner into the hospital parking lot, still smiling from something Dani told her.

"That _sounds_ like something H. M. would enjoy. So how did he react when you made him cover his eyes and he saw how you had decorated the day room for your late night date?"

Dani closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the seat. "Girl, how do you _think_ any normal red-blooded American man would react?" She breathed in and smiled. When she glanced across at Cyndy, her mood had changed to one of somber reflection. "I love him so much it hurts sometimes. Especially when I know he's going on a mission with the guys and he might not return."

Cyndy nodded as she parked the truck. Pausing before removing the keys from the ignition, she murmured, "I can understand that completely. I used to worry about him like that every time he disappeared for hours after school." She gave Dani a quick scrutinizing look. "Has he ever told you about his father?"

The nurse frowned and shook her head. "He hasn't talked much about his childhood. I don't think Doctor Richter his therapist has gotten very much from him about that subject either."

"He _will_ need to talk when this mission is over, Dani. Let _him_ be the one to tell you when he's able. It's a very painful subject and I shouldn't be the one to tell you about it. Just trust me that he'll need you more than ever to be a sympathetic listener and to love him through the nightmares and flashbacks from talking about it." Cyndy's eyes narrowed as she stared toward the hospital exit doors. "That's strange. I thought Hannibal was watching H. M." She bolted from the truck.

Dani shadowed her as she hurried across the pavement toward the Colonel and Doctor Freedman.

oooooo

Murdock's room became a beehive of activity as Doctor Freedman examined the torn stitches and bleeding wounds around Murdock's wrist and on his temple.

The pilot pretended to drift in and out of wakefulness. At the foot of the bed, Hannibal argued with both Dani and Cyndy about his failure to prevent the latest attack.

_Better him th'n me. Feel sorry for 'im, though. But I gotta make my act convincin'. _

"How in the world could this have happened, Hannibal? You _know_ he's being targeted by his own father and you left him alone in the room." Cyndy threw her hands up in the air in frustration, then gestured toward the bed. "_Look_ at what happened."

"He wanted some time alone while I talked to the doctor about his condition."

_Hannibal's gotta lie 'bout the real reason he was talkin' to the doc. My condition? I'm gettin' better but they can't know that. _

Dani's eyes reflected confusion. "Wait a minute. What do you mean, 'targeted by his own father'?"

_That's one thing I wanna have the chance ta 'splain myself. Gotta change the conversation. _

He gasped as he inhaled and groaned loudly enough to attract the attention of both women. Cyndy blanched at the sound and wrapped her arms around herself. Hannibal seemed genuinely stunned at the deterioration of his health. Dani hurried to the bedside and knelt, out of the doctor's way but close enough to hold Murdock's left hand. He squeezed her fingers lightly before feigning unconsciousness again.

"H. M." He could hear the emotion in her voice, ready to spill over as tears. He wasn't about to chance a look but he was certain Cyndy was in the same emotional state.

_Do this too good 'n' they may never leave me 'lone long 'nough for me to do what I gotta do. It's up to the guys to give me the opportunity. _

He focused his attention on the plan. As he did he could almost hear Billy whisper, "It's almost time. Come home, big brother. Come home."


	98. Chapter 98 Someone To Be Burned

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 98 Someone To Be Burned

B. A. stayed with Winton back at the farm. Both Hannibal and Face kept the two young ladies company in Murdock's hospital room. With the women there he could do very little from Wednesday noon to Thursday morning but to sleep and, when awake, mumble whatever crazy things came to his mind.

_Not too hard fer me ta do, seein' everyone knows I live in a room on the psych ward._

Continuing the act for as long as he had already was proving to be a grueling experience but he was somehow convincing. By six that evening, even Hannibal seemed worried over Murdock's condition.

_I deserve an Oscar fer this performance. _

At least Doctor Freedman had listened to him and was doing as good of an acting job as Murdock himself was being asked to do. The pilot knew the doctor planned on reinserting the catheter in a few hours to make the act more realistic. The heart monitor would come much later, almost at the end, when he received a medication to create arrhythmia. Dangerous thing, that, especially with what he planned, something the doctor knew nothing about.

_T'ward th' end, ain' gonna be an act. Hope the guys're ready for that. _

Someone approached the bed. He could faintly hear the squeak of rubber soles on the tile floor. Opening his eyes halfway, he recognized the day nurse as she reached in her pocket for a syringe and a vial.

He saw Dani rise from the bedside chair and move closer to confront her. "What are you giving him now?" she demanded.

_Oh, Dani darlin'. Wish ya wouldn' get in the way o' the plan. _

The nurse ignored her, preparing the syringe, cleansing the IV port and injecting the contents into the line.

Doctor Freedman answered from somewhere out of Murdock's range of vision. "Ciprofloxacin. We'll continue to try to fight the bacterial pneumonia but if his condition continues to deteriorate, we may have to switch to a more potent antibiotic."

Looking toward the foot of the bed, Murdock noted that Cyndy had sought the shelter of Face's embrace as she watched him lapse in and out of wakefulness. At the doctor's words, she buried her face in her hands and wept softly. A lump formed in Murdock's throat.

He glanced at Dani. With all of her medical training, even she paled at the answer to her question. Swallowing hard, she waited until the nurse finished her job and left the bedside before sitting on the edge of the bed and clutching his hands in hers.

Her uncertain frightened look unsettled him and he closed his eyes to avoid it.

"Gotta get Flyboy saddled, ready ta go. Billy said . . . Billy says it's peaceful . . ." he muttered. The mention of his baby brother stirred the dormant voices in his head again. It surprised him that they were once again becoming clear.

_Thought they were 'cause of my fever. If they're talkin' ta me when I'm gettin' better, maybe they're . . . real? 'N' if they're real, are the things they're sayin' gonna come true?_

Suddenly he felt very tired. He suspected the contents of the syringe was not the antibiotic Doctor Freedman mentioned but something else the doctor and he had agreed upon to enable him to better appear as if his health was worsening.

_Prob'ly more lorazepam. If I sleep, I'll dream. If I dream, I'll see Pa. If I see Pa . . ._

As he drifted off, he heard Cyndy's soft muffled sniffles and felt Dani lay her head gently on his chest. He wanted so badly to wrap his arms around her and hold her close but that would give the plan away. His arms felt like two fallen logs at his sides anyway. He contented himself with the memory of their last slow dance together and heard the tune "Fly Me To the Moon" playing in his mind.

oooooo

_The things The Company asked him to do most times turned his stomach even if he was only a witness and not a participant._

_From his seat in the cockpit of the Huey he gazed down at the choppy gray surface of the South China Sea outside of Da Nang Bay. From behind him in the troop transport area of the chopper someone screamed repeatedly, the cry alternating with chillingly measured words in Vietnamese._

"_Ai là họ (Who are they)?"_

"_Tôi không biết (I do not know)!"_

_Another scream. It seemed to hang in the air as a reverberating echo. With each cry, Murdock's stomach knotted tighter and tighter._

"_Họ đang ở đâu (Where are they)?"_

"_Tôi không biết (I do not know)!" Another scream, more agonized than the others._

_Murdock started to hum the first melody that came into his head. Anything to silence the endless wails of the Vietnamese youth the two men were interrogating._

_When're they gonna b'lieve 'im 'n' tell me ta head back ta base camp? The boy knows nothin'. He woulda spilled the goods by now if he did._

"_Người giúp đở (Friend)!"_

_Henderson, the head honcho and handler over a small unit of CIA agents, repeated it in English. "You hear that, Jackson? He says he's our friend." They laughed._

"_Không (No)! Dừng (Stop)!"_

_The scream sounded different now, like it came from somewhere outside the chopper to his left. _

_As he was still trying to puzzle out the reason why, the cry came again, long, drawn out and fading into the distance._

_From the transport area he could hear small chuckles and then the command from Henderson, "Take her on home, Captain. We're finished here." Smoke drifted forward from where the two passengers shared a pack of cigarettes._

"_Hope he knew how to swim," one agent remarked to the other and they both laughed._

_The scene shifted and he was no longer in the cockpit of a Huey but in a hotel room in Da Nang shortly before the war ended. Henderson eyed him from his prone position on the bed, the bottle of whiskey beside him on the bedside table._

"_That House investigatory committee traced the disappearances of several Vietnamese citizens to me. I thought you should know that. You were the pilot for at least four of those interrogations." Henderson's baleful green eyes rested on Murdock's face before straying to the small round tin in his hand. Turning it over in his fingers, he shook his head and grimaced. _

"_What'll happen ta me?" Murdock realized his voice sounded strained. He wanted to rush the man on the bed and wrestle the box away from him. He knew what it contained. He had a similar box on his person with the same contents. A safeguard for anyone who knew too many secrets._

"_If Jackson doesn't give any more names than what he already has, probably nothing. If he does . . . " Henderson shrugged. With a little more animation than he had been displaying to this point, the older man hoisted himself into a sitting position. His face reddened with sudden rage. "What do those politicians know about the situation over here? We didn't know half the time which village sold out to the VC and which village we could trust." His eyes bored into the pilot's with a pleading insistence. "You know what I'm talking about, don't you?"_

_Murdock swallowed and nodded. Anything to prevent the man from removing the lid on that box. As a pilot, he had rarely had to make decisions about who to trust. Being land-based, Henderson had and now he felt his career was over. _

_And maybe it was. When an intelligence gathering program like Phoenix went bad, the blowback, the bad publicity, meant someone had to be burned. Henderson was that sacrifice for the media to focus upon, the one the public would see in their collective minds' eye when they heard the word "Phoenix"._

"_But you can avoid being a throwaway like me. All you did was fly the chopper. You shouldn't have to be burned along with me. You could always plead insanity, Captain. They can't try someone who isn't competent to stand trial." _

_The words made Murdock flinch and he carefully scrutinized Henderson's expression for any hint of __knowledge about his past psychiatric history. The last stay in a POW camp had taken months of his life and reduced it to survival. It took an additional month or two for his mind to wrap around his sudden freedom. And then the Company had tapped his shoulder for his services again. By that time the A-team he had transported on so many missions was imprisoned for robbing the Bank of Hanoi._

_He was so lost in thought that he failed to see the slight twisting motion Henderson made to open the tin. Before he could stop him, the agent popped the pill into his mouth. Death was quick and ugly to watch. Henderson almost immediately fell into a coma and his cheeks pinkened before his skin turned bluish. The last breaths were violent spasms before Henderson lay still, his eyes opened wide, his pupils dilated._

"_Nooo . . ."_

oooooo

" . . . noooo."

Dani startled and sat upright. She had fallen asleep, her head still on his chest, her arms still embracing him. Her eyes instantly searched his face for any indication of what state of consciousness he was in. When his eyes remained closed, she stood and hovered just beyond his reach. She was all too aware of the reaction he would have to anyone touching him if he was in the grips of a nightmare or flashback.

"H. M.?"

He shuddered, not because he was still in that Da Nang hotel room but because he had remembered, and the memory ushered in the fear of what he was about to do.


	99. Chapter 99 The Last Hour

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 99 The Last Hour

As pre-arranged with Murdock, Doctor Freedman insisted late Wednesday afternoon that whenever a nurse or he examined the patient, everyone else was required to leave the room.

"The most outrageous thing I've ever heard of. If I stand back and let them do what they need to, there's no reason for me to have to wait in the hallway," Dani fumed to Cyndy at ten in the evening. Her nervous habit of chewing on her lower lip betrayed her worry over what was being done.

Cyndy huddled next to Face. Most of her tears had been shed when Face made her go with him to have some dinner in the hospital cafeteria. She didn't want Dani to know she cared for Murdock's welfare any more than a good friend would. No need to stir up jealousy or suspicion when their focus should be on the dying man they both loved. If that meant she needed to let Dani be beside him all the time, she would step out of the way. So she nodded numbly in agreement as the Lieutenant drew her closer to himself.

Face felt her tremble and absently kissed the top of her head. He glanced at the Colonel and could tell how much Murdock's "performance" rattled him. He wondered how much more realistic the dying act would get. In his thoughts Face said several prayers for safety and healing he remembered from his orphanage days and hoped God could read minds.

His feet planted shoulder width apart, Hannibal peered toward the closed door. His jaw muscles twitched with the tension he was containing inside. He no longer knew if this was an act or not and that made him worry. No, it made him more than worry. It made him feel helpless to prevent that which seemed inevitable. Not since Murdock took the bullet meant for him had Hannibal felt such despair.

Early in the evening they brought additional chairs into the room and alternated staying awake with him. None of them but Murdock slept well.

Whenever the pilot woke, he rambled with an increasingly slurred voice. Even Dani had difficulty understanding him at times.

Every one of his dreams was a nightmare now. They weren't confined to memories of beatings from his father or brutal interrogations by the VC. Henderson's death haunted him. What did a death like that feel like? Would a quarter of that dose kill or would it merely simulate a near death which could be avoided if acted upon quickly enough? How quickly?

He _thought_ he knew the answers from what he had been told in his limited CIA training but as the hours passed and morning drew nearer, he found himself second-guessing.

_Should I be sayin' goodbye?_

As planned, Doctor Freedman had one of the nurses administer the drug which created arrythmia in Murdock's heart. The heart rate monitor was brought back into the room and the patient hooked up to it. Dani paled when she saw how erratic his heart beat had become. The two men noted the change with outward calm but internal unease. Cyndy clung to the Lieutenant for reassurance that the pilot would recover.

"T . . . tell . . . B. A. . . ." he whispered to Face. The Lieutenant stared as Murdock appealed to him to come nearer. As soon as Face shifted positions on the pilot's left side, Dani awoke from the guard she had maintained through the night on his right. Raising her head from the pillow beside his abdomen, she grasped his hand and glanced back and forth between the two men.

"Tell him what, buddy?" Face murmured, quietly so as not to disturb Hannibal or Cyndy who were fitfully dozing in chairs further back from the bed. He bent his head closer to hear.

Murdock's eyes flickered over Dani's anguished expression. Even with exhaustion pinching her features, she was beautiful.

_I'm gonna hafta sen' her 'n' Cyndy outta here soon so I can do what I gotta do. God, I hope she forgives me. I'd hate ta lose her 'cause a this. _

He let out a soft sigh as if speaking took great effort. Looking at Face, he added, "Tell . . . 'im . . . Billy's . . . missin'." He closed his eyes and let the unshed tears for the pain Dani and Cyndy were going through trickle from the corners of his eyes.

"No, he's not, buddy. No, Billy's been sleeping at the end of your bed. Doctor Freedman doesn't like it but he's been there all along," Face lied. He was starting to believe the pilot was no longer acting. With the young ladies listening into every conversation, the doctor was reluctant to tell them the details of Murdock's condition.

Doctor Freedman himself was either playing his own part so well neither Hannibal nor Face could tell the difference or something had gone seriously wrong and his friend was actually dying.

Around two in the morning B. A. called and Hannibal answered. Rubbing his eyes, the Colonel listened for a few moments. "No, Murdock isn't doing any better . . ." Pause. "I _know_ you'd like to be here for your shift but we need someone to stay with Winton . . ." A longer pause and Hannibal frowned. "I know, B. A. If he wakes enough for me to tell him, I will."

When he hung up the phone, the Colonel seemed wearier than he had before.

It was nearly 9:15 in the morning when a restless Murdock frantically muttered the words, "Tránh xa! (Stay away!) Tránh xa!" followed by "Không (No)! Dừng (Stop)!" All of them immediately woke.

Hannibal insisted on escorting Dani and Cyndy to the cafeteria to let Face ease him out of his nightmare and into reality. "It'll only be long enough to grab some coffee to bring back to the room, girls."

Dani's eyes blazed with the anxiety she felt at leaving Murdock's side. Cyndy was more submissive but still lingered for a few moments until Hannibal gently grasped her elbow and steered her in the direction of the door. As they passed the doctor in the hallway, the Colonel gave him a subtle signal that they were ready to enact phase one.

It took several minutes but when the patient woke enough to realize where he was, Face was staring at him. "Bad dream, huh?"

Murdock shuddered and, closing his eyes again, nodded.

"Were you back in the camp?"

Another nod, more vigorous this time. He licked his lips before opening his eyes wide and whispering, "Keep Dani 'n' Cyndy outta the room for a while, 'kay?"

"That'll be nearly impossible."

Murdock feebly clutched at Face's arm. "I don't wan' 'em to see. Not 'til it's jus' 'bout over."

The Lieutenant raised his eyebrows and let out an exasperated sigh. "I'll tell Hannibal to try to convince them. I hope they'll cooperate."

"They gotta. Hann'bal's gotta make 'em." The patient glared at Face with such intensity, he turned his gaze to the floor at his feet.

"Hannibal may have his hands full. Doctor Freedman should be stopping in soon to preside over your 'death.' That's when I'll slip away and wait for his call for the hearse. Are you ready?" Face raised his eyes to see Murdock grimace.

"I gotta be, now don' I? Make sure my Pa's somewhere nearby to see everythin'. He's gotta be convinced." The pilot's voice grew desperate.

"I'm sure McKeever's been watching this room closely every time he's here working. He must know we've all been keeping a vigil at your bedside. He has to think you're in very serious condition." Face paused. "This _is _an act, isn't it?"

Murdock stared at the overbed table for several seconds. Face watched an expression of sadness pass across his friend's face before the pilot forced a small smile to form. "' Course it is, Faceman. ' Course it is."

oooooo

Doctor Freedman greeted the Lieutenant as he entered the room.

"Time for me to get in position." Face gave Murdock and the doctor a smile and thumbs-up gesture he did not feel. "I'll see you in about 45 minutes, buddy."

"Thanks for bein' such a good friend, brother. G'bye, Faceman." The pilot murmured the words loud enough for him to hear. He froze in place for seconds before walking to the door.

Turning to Murdock when the door closed, Doctor Freedman locked eyes with the patient and prepared a syringe.

"This drug I'm giving you will lower your blood pressure and reduce your heart rate to simulate a condition as close to death as possible. It should only take a few minutes after I inject it to begin to work. I'll leave the room and let your friends in so they can witness your condition deteriorating. Are you ready?" The physician scrutinized the patient's grim expression.

Murdock nodded and muttered, "Get 'er done, doc."

After the doctor left, the Captain reached toward the overbed table.

_Forgot 'bout that other drug doc was gonna give me. Hope the two o' 'em don' finish the job. But I gotta make this look as real as possible. _

His hands trembled as he twisted the lid of the tin. He paused before removing the smallest of the pills, closing the tin and shoving it into his duffel bag. For a second he stared at the pill in his hand and wondered if he had drunk enough water to dilute the acid in his stomach. Dani's voice in the hallway disturbed his thoughts and forced him to act.

His heart pounding in dread of what he was about to do, he popped the pill in his mouth and swallowed it with a gulp of water.


	100. Chapter 100 Plan Gone Wrong

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 100 Plan Gone Wrong

The two women did not want to stay in the cafeteria to have their coffee.

Hannibal understood their urgency. They both believed Murdock was dying. They wanted to spend every last moment with him. If Hannibal didn't know it was a well-acted performance, he would have felt the same way.

The Colonel listened to the women's conversation as they walked toward the room. Dani was doing most of the talking.

"Sometime after we get back to L. A., you should come out and visit. I'll put you up in my apartment and H. M. and I will show you the sights." He didn't know if she was denying what seemed inevitable or merely trying to boost the other woman's spirits. If Cyndy responded at all, Hannibal did not hear it.

Hannibal felt sorry for her. It had been obvious throughout the mission she still had feelings for the Captain. He was certain Murdock had some residual feelings for her. The signs were there. But she was sacrificing her desire to remain as close to him as she would have preferred in his last moments to someone who had taken her place.

_I'll say it again. She's one helluva good woman. Murdock would have done well to have her as a wife. _

But then Hannibal knew that Dani might someday make Murdock a happy husband. The two women were not totally opposite. Some of the same characteristics which the pilot obviously loved in Daniela Scalatini were qualities Cynthia Berquon also possessed. But both of the women were witnessing what they believed to be Murdock's final moments and reacting in different ways.

Dani was somewhat more confident than Cyndy that Murdock would somehow pull off a miraculous recovery. But then, she had not been there when the pilot was burning with fever and asleep through most of each day and night. She had not witnessed the shard of glass in his hand and B. A.'s quick move that prevented him from making a deeper slash in his wrist than he already had. She had not seen the X-rays of his left lung.

_Or does Dani know it's an act? Did Murdock somehow tell her when we weren't listening? His act is so realistic even I'm not sure anymore if he's relapsing or simply giving the performance of his life. _

Hannibal raised his hand to peer at the watch on his wrist. 9:45 A. M.

_Face should be on his way to get the hearse and wait for the call. _

Face had told Hannibal sometime during the night when both ladies were dozing about Murdock's insistence that there was no room for error on their timing.

_Is our Captain being overly melodramatic? _

They passed Doctor Freedman as he knocked at a door across the hallway to examine another of his patients. The doctor gave the Colonel a quick nod and shifted his gaze toward the door at the far end of the hall before entering his patient's room.

A janitor cleaning cart stood unattended beside the door opposite the room. Hannibal entered ahead of Cyndy and Dani, styrofoam coffee cup in his hand. From the door, he detected a progressively worsening change in Murdock's breathing.

A faint rustling sound from beside the bed alerted him to the presence of a janitor in the room. The custodian was keeping one eye on the patient and the other on the trash bag he was placing in the bedside waste can. The old bag, top tied off, lay on the floor at his feet.

Dani dropped her coffee cup on the floor when she gazed at Murdock. The liquid contents spattered across the tile. Hurrying past the Colonel, she pressed the nurses' call button on the bed. "We need help down here. Stat." Sitting on the edge of the bed, she yanked the CPAP mask off to do a sweep of his mouth and throat with her finger to check for obstructions. As her finger swept the back of his mouth, he gagged and vomited up the contents of his stomach.

Cyndy gasped and clutched at Hannibal's arm. She glared at the janitor. "What did you do to him?"

"Breathe, H. M., breathe," Dani begged, her voice a raspy prayer as she gazed into his eyes, looking for a sign that he recognized her. With one hand she stroked his cheek, with the other she held his hand, helpless to do anything more.

The custodian tried to brush by Cyndy but she blocked his path. "What did you do to him?" she demanded, her hands gripping his shoulders and shaking him.

"Don' know what yer talkin' 'bout, missy. Didn' do nothin'." McKeever pushed her away and, carrying the trash bag, strode to the door. His face contorted with a confused scowl as he looked back at the patient in the bed. "I didn' do nothin' ta cause this."

Hannibal caught something else in the man's expression but didn't know exactly what it was.

The janitor pushed past Doctor Freedman as he came in, two nurses following him.

Cyndy perched on one side of the bed and Dani sat on the other. Both stared with horror on their faces as Murdock's chest spasmed in his desperate attempts to breathe. His lips were tinged blue and the pupils of his eyes had dilated. His gaze fixated on the ceiling above him. The heart monitor beeped insistently with an irregular rhythm before settling into one steady long tone.

"Get the ladies out of here so we have room to work. Now!" The doctor snapped out a command and Hannibal hurried to obey. As the Colonel left, ushering both women ahead of him, the physician cast an anxious look at him.

_Something went wrong. _

A lump formed in Hannibal's throat. The bluish cast to the pilot's lips and fingertips, the flushed cheeks, the glazed eyes and the violently convulsive gasps affirmed that Murdock was not acting.

A nurse rushed by them and through the door with a defibrillator unit.

Paling when the nurse passed by, Dani threw her arms around Hannibal's waist to bury her face on his shoulder. Not knowing what else to do, the older man reached up to pat her back. His mind was still reeling with the sudden fatal turn his plan had taken.

Cyndy's knees buckled under her and she slid down the wall to sit on the floor. Hugging herself and tucking her head into her bent knees she sobbed uncontrollably.

"How could this have happened, Hannibal?" Dani managed between breaths taken to keep from crying.

He shook his head as if in a daze.

"McKeever." Cyndy raised her tear-streaked face and repeated it. "McKeever. That was him in the room. He must have done something." She staggered to her feet and glared down the hall but the janitor was nowhere to be seen. "I knew one of us should have stayed here. And where is Temp? He knew better than to leave H. M. alone."

The door to Murdock's room opened and all three turned. Grim-faced, the doctor hesitated before approaching them.

"Doc?" Hannibal scrutinized the other man's face.

_If he's acting, he should be in the movies. _

"I'm sorry. I'm very sorry . . ." Doctor Freedman said to Dani and Cyndy. Dani headed toward the door but the physician motioned for the Colonel to hold her back. With an apologetic tone, he explained, "I'm afraid it wouldn't be wise for either of the young ladies to view the body at this time. Death by suffocation is not a pretty sight."

The nurses left the room one by one. The last to leave brought the defibrillation unit.

Cyndy shrank back from the two men, her face growing pale and her eyes widening in shock. Dani noticed and went over to her, offering her a shoulder to cry on. Even though her own eyes were dry, her face was tight with grief as she hugged the other woman and murmured small comforting words to her.

To the Colonel the doctor added, "I called for the coroner right away, knowing you need to be secretive about your presence in the area. If you wish I can arrange for you to accompany the body, Colonel."

Hannibal glanced at the closed door to Murdock's room and nodded, his mind trying to fathom how his plan could have gone so wrong. Seconds later Cyndy fell backwards into his arms in a dead faint.


	101. Chapter 101 Two Bright Angels

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 101 Two Bright Angels

There was no time to wonder if he had made a mistake before the first wave of dizziness hit him. Within seconds Murdock was gasping for breath, his lungs attempting to compensate for the oxygen starvation his cells were beginning to experience.

Before his eyes locked on the ceiling above him, he spied his father near the bed. He tried to form the word "Pa" but he couldn't take in enough breath to say it. On his father's face was a conglomeration of mixed emotions, some which surprised him. Shock, regret, sadness. Then the determined mask of hatred settled back into place.

"Guess you'll never tell what ya saw," the older man muttered under his breath. "If only yer Ma didn' do what she done . . . but tha's water under th' bridge. Winton's next, then I'll make my run fer the border."

His father bent over the bed and peered into his face. Murdock noted the fine wrinkles around the brown eyes and thin-lipped mouth. The mop of shaggy light brown hair was streaked with gray.

_Since when did Pa age so much? Don' seem so capable o' murder anymore._

"After ya die, don' come back 'n' haunt me, boy. _This_ wasn' my doin'. 'Member that."

He heard the rustle of plastic as his father bent to remove the half full waste bag and replace it with a new one. The older man grunted as his arthritic spine protested the movement.

The door opened and clicked shut again. Suddenly Dani was there, leaning over him to get to the call button on the bed. He knew she normally smelled like lavender but all he could detect was the odor of bitter almonds. "We need help down here. Stat."

_Why'd Hann'bal let 'er in 'ere? Didn' want 'er ta see all this. _

Dani's lovely worried face appeared directly over him. Her eyes frantically searched his for signs of life. He felt her yank the CPAP mask from his face, tilt his head back and open his mouth. The finger she stuck in his mouth scraped the back of his throat and he choked, then vomited. There wasn't much in his stomach but water, stomach acid and the remains of the pill.

_She may've jus' saved my life. Don' know if Hann'bal woulda got ta me in time. _

Cyndy's angry voice penetrated the darkness and confusion slowly descending over his senses. "What did you do to him?"

_Cyndy's mad? Mad at who?_

He felt an intense burning and increasing tightness across his chest. The discomfort radiated around to his upper back and down the inside of his left arm to his fingertips. His abdomen hurt.

Someone touched his cheek and gripped his hand. It must have been Dani but he couldn't see clearly anymore. She begged him to breathe but he couldn't make his chest rise past the heavy weight upon it. Her voice was a raw rasp, full of emotion.

_Dani? God, help me, I'm dyin'._

He sensed the presence of two bright angels, one on either side of him, both waiting for his final breath before escorting him to Heaven. Then the angels were gone and he was surrounded by demons disguised in white. The only actions available to him were to either let them poke and prod at him or escape them by descending deeper into the darkness. He chose the darkness.

oooooo

_Murdock climbed up to the barn loft by way of the rickety wooden ladder. The soft nickers of Flyboy, Paloma, Hernando and Tango drifted up to him from the stalls below. Smells of weathered wood, fresh hay and horse lather surrounded him. Sunlight shafted in from the open window and bathed his face in warmth as he neared the top of the ladder. Bending first one knee and then the other, he knelt on the loft floor for seconds before getting to his feet and walking across to the window._

_The smell of freshly turned dirt drifted up from below. Compelled by curiosity, he peeked out the window at a man in a gray janitor's uniform shoveling earth onto a large mound. He had already dug two holes, grave-sized from what Murdock could judge, and the third was like the other two. Two completely black eyes stared up at him from below. He crept back from the window to hide behind several hay bales, knowing in his heart he had seen pure evil and it had seen him. _

_The horses were restless below him now. Hooves thudded dully against the earth of the stalls and the nickers became neighs of discomfort. Gray puffs of smoke floated upward. The puffs became a dense wall and when the first fingers of flame licked the edge of the loft floor he knew he was trapped. The smoke suffocated and blinded him. He couldn't get any air in his lungs and his heart was beating an erratic pattern. Then his entire body spasmed as his chest had moments before. He was dying and no one was with him in his last moments of life. _

_A soft feminine voice spoke from behind him. "God knows I want you to come home but it's not your time yet, son." He knew that voice. He remembered her reading him nursery tales from Mother Goose when he was a toddler. Later before he went to kindergarten the tales became adventures about World War II flying aces and cowboys and super heroes. By then, she read to him from her hospital bed._

_A faded creased black and white photo of her standing on the farmhouse veranda formed his only visual memory of her. He had a near-photographic memory for almost everything else but never understood why he couldn't remember the face of the woman who for five years tucked him in at night and read to him._

"_Ma?" He whispered the word and turned in a circle to find no one there. His chest spasmed again and he drew in a long shuddering breath . . . _

When he opened his eyes, the first person he saw was male and dressed in the garb of a doctor. He knew he had met the man sometime but his thoughts were still confused. The man had two rectangular paddle-like objects in each hand and as he turned Murdock realized it was a defibrillator and it had been used on him. The doctor called someone on the bedside phone. He anxiously glanced at the pilot one more time before leaving the room.

_Wait a minute. If I was jus' brought back ta life, why's the doc leavin'? _

He couldn't remember and that thought terrified him.

The nurses filed out of the room one by one, each with a resigned look on her face.

_Wha's goin' on? Am I 'live or not? _

The door opened and someone approached the bed where he lay. He was rolled to his side and something was placed on the bed beside him. A vaguely familiar face peered grimly at him after rolling him back over. Zippering shut the bag which enveloped Murdock's body, the mustached elderly man mumbled in Face's voice, "Hang in there, buddy. Hannibal will be here in a minute."

His mind tried to parse out what was happening to him.

_Am I in Heaven 'r hell? _

He heard the door open. Within a minute he was being lifted over onto a flat surface and then he sensed he was being moved. Muffled voices came to him through the bag but he couldn't understand what they were saying.

He was lifted again and moments later as an engine started, the bag was unzipped.

He opened his eyes and recognized Hannibal beside him just before his vision faded out again.

_Hann'bal looks like he's starin' the Grim Reaper in th' face 'n' darin' 'im to a fight ta the death. Wonder which one'll win? _

"God, I hope we're not too late, Hannibal. Look at him. He looks like death warmed over."

_I **feel** like death warmed over. But it's not my time. Is it?_

Murdock felt his grip on life releasing and in his disoriented condition hoped Hannibal remembered what to do to keep him from dying.


	102. Chapter 102 Suspicions

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 102 Suspicions

"God, I hope we're not too late, Hannibal. Look at him. He looks like death warmed over."

"At least he has a pulse and he's breathing. Just keep driving, Lieutenant, and let me try to resurrect him from the dead," Hannibal snapped.

_If I can. Face is right. He looks more dead than alive. _

Removing his glove, the Colonel inserted his finger into the pilot's mouth to prompt a gag reflex. For the second time since he swallowed the pill, Murdock was forced to vomit. Hannibal broke open an ampule of amyl nitrite and let the contents seep onto a cloth.

Checking his wristwatch, he held the cloth under Murdock's nose for thirty seconds. For another half minute, he watched impatiently for signs that the pilot was recovering, then prepared the syringe with sodium nitrite. Injecting the antidote into the IV port which the doctor had left in the pilot's arm, Hannibal muttered under his breath, "I don't know what you did to yourself to make this so realistic, Captain, but it's gone way beyond an act and it's time for it to stop."

_As if I can order him back from the land of the dead. _

He slipped the mask over Murdock's face and turned on the valve on the oxygen tank.

The Colonel never again wanted to see the look of extreme emotional pain Dani had on her face when the stretcher with the body bag was rolled out of the room and to the waiting hearse. For a few moments, he thought he would have another fainting woman to have to lower gently to the floor. She recovered enough to briefly argue with him about having to remain at the hospital to ensure Cyndy didn't wake from her faint alone. As he left the building, her muffled sniffles followed him.

_I have to hand it to her. She's tough when she needs to be. She could match Murdock's stubbornness step for step. _

About now, Hannibal would have appreciated having Dani there to oversee what he was doing. The pilot's skin retained a bluish cast to it and when he checked Murdock's pulse, it was hovering around 45 beats per minute. He placed the blood pressure cuff the doctor had supplied around the pilot's upper arm and took a reading.

_55 over 38. Still extremely low. But at least I know his heart is beating. _

Later he would have to talk to the doctor about what happened in the room while the ladies and he were in the hallway.

_Right after I talk to Murdock, that is. If I get to talk to him. _

Five minutes passed slowly. Hannibal removed the vial of sodium thiosulfate and another syringe from his pocket, an addition the doctor slipped him in the early morning hours while the two ladies slept. He injected the dose into the port and waited for ten minutes more.

The pilot's fingertips were slightly blue and when Hannibal touched his hands they were icy. As he watched and waited, Murdock's skin tone turned from faint blue to light gray to light pink.

_I hope this was convincing enough for McKeever. I won't put him through anything like this again. _

Face's anxious voice interrupted his thoughts. "How's he doing, Colonel?"

Hannibal answered with a grim nod. "Oh, I think our phoenix will live to fly again. But it was close, way too close."

After a sigh of relief, the Lieutenant's tone turned critical. "Next time you have a plan that involves one of us faking our own death, tell us not to try to follow it to the letter, okay?"

"This wasn't part of my plan. Our Captain improvised." He wouldn't admit it but Face's words struck him in his most vulnerable spot: his sense of personal responsibility over the welfare and safety of his men.

Hannibal pondered once again how much about Murdock he _didn't _know.

_Doctor Freedman would never give a patient something toxic enough to almost kill. If I know human character, I know that much about the good doctor. Murdock had to have taken something in addition to the drugs the doctor gave him to simulate death. Something we didn't know he possessed. _

The physician had been puzzled over the pilot's insistence upon the amyl nitrite and sodium nitrite. He seemed to know more than he indicated. Didn't he say it was unlikely the patient could have had access to whatever he thought would require the two drugs in combination?

Murdock stirred, his lips forming words. The older man bent to listen and smelled bitter almonds on his breath.

_I know that smell. _

Hannibal straightened and frowned down at the pilot.

_No wonder the doctor didn't think it likely he could have any of that in his possession. _

It was a part of Murdock's military background Hannibal wasn't sure he wanted to know about. Regular armed forces didn't supply their troops with potassium cyanide but he knew who did. He also knew what the CIA was capable of and at the same time couldn't picture the Captain being a part of that kind of activity.

The vehicle left the main road and bumped along over an overgrown pair of faint ruts before slowing to a halt.

"We're here." Face parked beside the hay shed in the back pasture and threw open the driver's door to join the Colonel in the back of the hearse. He removed the mustache and gray wig and gazed down at his friend with anxiety etched in his features.

The Lieutenant winced. "He's looking a lot better than when I zipped that bag shut on him but hasn't he come out of it at all?"

Hannibal shook his head and took the pilot's blood pressure again. 65 over 45. Better but still not optimal. Murdock's pulse rate had also increased. But he was not conscious yet and that worried the Colonel.

"Murdock, buddy, it's time to wake up." Face gently patted the pilot's cheek. "Come on. I know you like to joke around but it's time to get ready for the next part of the plan."

Hannibal gave the Lieutenant a sharp glance. "He wasn't acting at the hospital and I don't believe he is now either."

"What do you mean, Colonel?" Face peered at the pilot, taking one of the hands in his and frowning at the chill he felt.

Hannibal wasn't prepared to go into long explanations of what he suspected. "Never mind. Let's move him to the hay shed and I'll keep trying to revive him. You need to get this hearse back to where you got it." The Colonel scrutinized the younger man's smirk at his mention of the scammed vehicle. "Where _did_ you manage to get this?"

"Trade secret. A conman never reveals his sources." Face raised his eyebrows and gave him his most charming smile.

Between the two of them, they managed to carry Murdock to the hay shed where B. A. had placed a cot and blankets the previous morning in preparation. Throughout the move the Captain remained in a near-comatose state. After settling him in on the cot, Hannibal checked his pulse and blood pressure again. The two sets of numbers were rising slowly.

Face knelt by the side of the cot and watched the Colonel's expression before turning his attention on his friend. "You said it was too close. How close did we come to losing him?"

Hannibal clenched his teeth.

_Trust me, you don't want to know, kid. _

He changed the subject rather than answer and create even more worry in the young Lieutenant. "You need to check on Miss Berquon and Miss Scalatini. They can not be permitted to stay at the farmhouse until after we take care of Winton and McKeever. Make sure they gather what they need and escort them to Miss Berquon's apartment. Tell them they need to stick by the phone until we call and tell them the body is ready for viewing. Check on B. A. and Winton. Make sure they're prepared in case McKeever makes his move earlier than I expect."

Face looked at Murdock one more time, his expression reflecting his reluctance to leave. He sighed and asked, "Anything else, Colonel?"

Hannibal gazed down at the unconscious man. "Bring me Murdock's duffel bag from the hospital."


	103. Chapter 103 Of Graves and Angry Women

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 103 Of Graves and Angry Women

As Face drove to the hospital to check on Dani and Cyndy, B. A. bent his back to shovel the dirt from the filled in grave beside the barn. He wiped the sweat from his eyes with a bandana.

_How can Hannibal be so sure McKeever's seein' all this? Must know somethin' I don't._

The Sergeant merely followed orders like the good soldier he was and hoped for once one of the Colonel's plans would work exactly the way it was supposed to.

Winton watched from the shadows of the barn, a scowl on his face. He looked down at the body bag with its contents waiting to be buried. "So yer boy Murdock didn' make it, huh? Means his Pa's gonna be after me nex', don' it? Where's Smith? If McKeever's on his way out here, he's gotta protect me."

_He says one more thing 'bout Murdock bein' dead, I'm liable to make sure McKeever don't get his chance at him. Whether Hannibal likes it or not. _

B. A. straightened and growled at the man he was guarding. The muscular Sergeant knew the body bag contained nothing but a department store mannequin the Lieutenant somehow managed to procure to give the impression a body was being buried.

Even though Face told him in private Murdock was alive, he said it in an uncertain voice. B. A. wanted nothing better than to go to the hay shed and see for himself how the fool was doing. Having to listen to Winton's constant complaints and derisive remarks wore B. A.'s temper to a thin strand.

_Almost wish the fool was here pretendin' to pet his dog or callin' me Nurse Baracus. I'd just as soon listen to his jibber-jabber than have to take much more of Winton. _

A part of him hoped the grave he was unearthing would not have to be used. He hated to admit it but he would miss the crazy man if this staged "death" was no longer an act.

_If Murdock dies, McKeever better hope he don't ever lay his eyes on me. _

The thought made him dig more furiously at the crumbling earth.

oooooo

By the time Face returned with the two women and Murdock's personal effects, B. A. had finished his job. Cyndy and Dani glanced at the grave as they stepped onto the farmhouse veranda. Cyndy trembled while Dani narrowed her eyes and said nothing. The Lieutenant ushered them upstairs and told them to get ready.

"I am _so_ angry with Hannibal right now, I could spit tacks." Dani folded a light blue T-shirt with butterflies, flowers and the motto "You're the best figment my imagination ever had" screen-printed on it. She tossed the shirt into her suitcase and picked up a pair of black jeans from the bed. "I thought maybe I'd get to stay here for a while. Help the guys out with things."

Cyndy was busy packing her own suitcase. Looking up, she spied the shirt and gave her a sad smile. Nodding at the suitcase she asked, "A gift from H. M.?"

"For my birthday. Cute, isn't it? He came up with the saying himself and had it printed." She stopped and picked the shirt up again. Remembering the moment he gave it to her and holding it up to herself, she buried her face in it. Her shoulders began to shake with the sobs she had kept in for so long.

Cyndy left her packing and hugged the other woman tightly, her own eyes shining with tears. "I'm so sorry. He wouldn't let me tell anybody how seriously ill he was and you know men. Hannibal, B. A. and Temp were so focused on the mission, they didn't recognize what was happening. If I had known, I would have insisted . . . "

" . . . and H. M. still wouldn't have let them do anything. He is as stubborn as . . . " Realizing she had referred to him in present tense, Dani bitterly shook her head and corrected her words. "He _was_ very stubborn. When he got it in his mind that he wasn't going to follow his treatment plan at the V. A. hospital, he had to be forced." She swallowed hard. "I wish now we didn't have to be so cautious about our relationship. Tiptoeing around so no one would know, so I could keep my job and continue to see him." Stepping back she scanned the other woman's expression and wiped a stray tear from her face. "You loved him, too. I could tell. The way you stayed with him after I arrived, hearing from the others how you read to him and nursed him while he was sick. I'm grateful to you for doing that."

There was a tap at the bedroom door. "Uh, girls? Will you be much longer? We don't know when McKeever is going to make his move on Winton and it could be dangerous for you two to be here when he does." Face opened the door and poked his head in. "Colonel's orders. I'm supposed to make sure you go to Cyndy's place and stay there."

Both women glared at him. Dani shut her suitcase and latched it with two irritated movements. Picking it up she breezed past the Lieutenant and stopped to look back at Cyndy. "I'll have my car waiting at the door." Giving Face a resentful look, she muttered, "You forget what kind of background I come from. McKeever doesn't hold a _candle_ to some of the enemies _my_ family has made over the years."

Face stood with his mouth slightly agape as Dani angrily clomped down the stairs. Cyndy closed her suitcase and moved to stand beside the Lieutenant. "I guess I'm ready, Temp." Her brow furrowed with worry. "You said it would be dangerous for _us_ but you didn't say anything about _you._ Do you really expect trouble?"

The Lieutenant took the suitcase from her hand and set it down. Facing her, he tipped her chin up so he could make eye contact. "McKeever's after Winton, not us. This is just a precaution to keep you and Dani safe. Just in case things get ugly." He bent his head to kiss her and then picked up her suitcase and held her hand as he led her down the stairs and to the waiting car.

oooooo

After ensuring the women were on their way to Beaumont to stay at Cyndy's apartment, Face drove to the hay shed in the back pasture. Leaving Cyndy's El Camino, he slung Murdock's duffel bag over his shoulder and strode to the building where the Colonel sat in a camp chair waiting.

One look was all Face needed to see that Murdock had not regained consciousness yet. "Uh, Hannibal. What're we going to do if Murdock isn't able to go through with phase two of your plan?"

The Colonel looked tired and worried. He pumped up the blood pressure cuff and waited for the reading before taking the younger man's pulse. "All of his numbers are just about back to normal. So why is our Captain still unresponsive?" he muttered more to himself than to the Lieutenant. He cast an anxious glance at Face and shook his head. "I did everything according to what Doctor Freedman told me. He _should have_ recovered by now."

Face hated seeing Hannibal like this. It was rare that the Colonel appeared ready to declare defeat. The last time he could remember was in the old mine after the field surgery on the bullet wound in Murdock's shoulder. The look on Hannibal's face when Decker and his men were holding guns on them was like a surrender. But even then the Colonel had a trick or two up his sleeve to allow them to escape, all of them, not a man left behind.

_Even now, I bet Hannibal has an alternate plan, one that will return Murdock to the land of the living as well as put Winton and McKeever where they belong. There won't be a man left behind this time either . . . will there, Hannibal?_

Face's heart sank as he watched the Colonel scrub at his eyes with one hand. He propped both elbows on his knees and covered his face, rubbing it vigorously for several moments.

When he looked up at the Lieutenant, he seemed to have come to a decision. "You got a cigar on you, kid?"


	104. Chapter 104 Cold Blooded

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 104 Cold Blooded

Hannibal smoked his cigar in silence, his eyes never leaving Murdock's face. An hour ago, he sent Peck back to the farmhouse. His stated reasons were lame and he knew it. Unofficially, he needed time to think and convince himself to do what he knew had to be done.

The Lieutenant had protested. "Aw, Hannibal. I can sit here with Murdock as easily as you can. Besides, don't you want to check to see that B. A. has everything ready?"

"B. A. knows what I wanted him to do. I need more than one man guarding Winton now that McKeever thinks Murdock's dead. He may try something before we're ready for him," the Colonel insisted. His grave steel blue gaze penetrated through all of the other man's arguments.

In the end Face obeyed orders but not without first kneeling beside the cot and attempting to rouse Murdock from his comatose state. When he realized his friend was not going to wake, not even at the promise to go with him on the Space Mountain ride at Disneyland, the Lieutenant reluctantly got into Cyndy's El Camino and drove back to the farmhouse. That left Hannibal alone with his thoughts and his cigars.

_I know it's not likely McKeever will attack. Not in broad daylight. Not when even one of us is with Winton. But this gives me the time and opportunity I need. _

Deep inside Hannibal objected to digging through Murdock's duffel bag. What the Captain packed for a mission was his own affair. But too many things bothered him about Murdock's staged "death."

The combination of drugs the pilot requested from Doctor Freedman, the instruction to make sure he vomited the contents of his stomach, the condition he was in when the body bag was unzipped in the hearse, the smell of bitter almonds on Murdock's breath, now this prolonged unconsciousness . . .

_I have to make sure it isn't what I think it is. And what if it is, John? Do you force Murdock to wake up and tell you about it? _

Among the items in the pilot's bag were several things that pointed to his almost childlike nature. A dozen dog-eared superhero comic books. Three unopened packs of chewing gum. A yoyo. A magazine of cryptograms with half of the puzzles completed in ink. A pack of crayons with the sky blue crayon showing the most use.

There were also extra clothes and a color photo of Dani and Murdock. Dani wore a coral-colored sleeveless sheath dress. Murdock's arms were loosely draped over her bare shoulders as she leaned in close to him, looking up into his eyes. They were sitting in what appeared to be a Ferris wheel car. Their faces were so close together and their expressions were so passionate, they had either just shared a kiss or were about to. The edges of the photo were already slightly worn as if he took it out regularly to gaze at it. Hannibal tried to remember where the team was when it was taken but couldn't. Face probably knew. He was likely the photographer.

Hannibal glanced at Murdock.

_And you said Face had the love bug bad. _

The Colonel located Murdock's cased Browning Hi-Power and laid it on the cot beside the unconscious man. He knew Face kept the semi-automatic in safekeeping for the pilot while he was confined to the V. A. hospital. With Murdock's bouts with deep depression, the Lieutenant made sure to check in with Dani before springing him from the hospital and allowing him access to the weapon.

_Face has been slipping up too much this mission. There is no way in hell I would have allowed Murdock to keep this in his possession after the suicide attempt if I had known he had it here. Well, now I know. Unless it's absolutely necessary, this stays in my hands until we get back to L. A._

Hannibal froze when his arm got to the bottom of the duffel bag and his fingers touched the small round tin. Drawing the box out to take a closer look, his stomach knotted, not sure if he wanted to confirm his worst suspicions. He was about to open it when a voice stopped him.

"Ya don' wanna do that, Hann'bal. Ya jus' put that back where ya foun' it 'n' let sleepin' dogs lie. Ya hear?"

A hand gripped his wrist with more force than he thought the Captain had left in him. "_Put it back._"

He shifted his gaze from the box to the man on the cot. The smile on the pilot's face did not extend all the way to his chilling gaze when he added, "'Sides, if ya don', I might hafta kill ya."

The pilot carefully sat up, his hold on the Colonel's wrist tightening, his other hand reaching for and moving the cased pistol out of Hannibal's reach. The Colonel noted a small wince of pain that accompanied the movements.

_Whatever he took, it's messed with his head. Must have one bruiser of a headache. _

With steady fingers Murdock unzipped the leather case and removed the weapon. Pointing the Browning at the older man, his smile disappearing, he snatched the metal tin from Hannibal and stuffed it back in the duffel bag keeping his focus on the older man.

"So now ya know. Ya ain' gonna compromise my identity, are ya?"

In that moment, Colonel John "Hannibal" Smith realized that something about Murdock had changed. The childlike perspective was gone. This personality was more chilling and analytical, one Smith had never known existed within Murdock's psyche before. One that had the potential to kill without regret to finish a job.

oooooo

McKeever parked the white Bronco in the farm field a quarter mile from the homestead and used a worn footpath to get to the rarely used tree stand. It was within a high-powered binocular's viewing distance from the veranda of the house yet far enough away that he would not be detected very easily.

Climbing the makeshift slatted board ladder to the platform, McKeever grunted and settled in. It would be a while before he could make his move undetected.

_All I gotta do's take care o' one guy 'n' Winton's mine. Don' know where th' other guys are. Can' believe they're not gonna show up soon. _

Something red and blue by the barn attracted his attention. He swung the binoculars to his eyes and focused in.

_Diggin' up that hole 'gain. _

He scanned the barn area and located the black body bag lying on the dirt floor just inside the door. At the same time, he saw Winton.

_They ain' gonna do what I think they're gonna do with my son's body. Are they? Figured they'd bury 'im decent. He's a war vet, ain' he? But why's that matter so much ta me? _

The last time he saw his son he was struggling for every breath. Even then, the boy's eyes unsettled him. There was no hatred. More of a plea for help if anything.

And what had he said? "After ya die, don' come back 'n' haunt me, boy. _This_ wasn' my doin'. 'Member that." He went on doing what his custodial job description demanded but he couldn't erase the sound of Murdock's gasps for air or the last expression he saw on his face from his mind.

For the first time since the divorce, McKeever's mind cleared enough to question why he persisted in blaming and hating the boy for what his mother had done.

_Don' matter now. Boy's dead. Pretty soon I'm gonna be free ta start a new life somewhere 'cross the border. _

His attention returned to the black man climbing up out of the grave. Two cars arrived in the driveway: the El Camino with his son's blonde friend driving and an unfamiliar red Volkswagen Bug. The two women he had seen around his son's room got out and were escorted to the farmhouse veranda and in the door by the driver of the other vehicle.

_Hope it's time fer a shift change. Big black guy won' go down as easy as this other guy. Then Winton'll be all mine. _

McKeever's hands shook slightly as he reached in his uniform pocket and removed the handgun he had purchased earlier that week.

_Gotta get almost in Winton's face ta use this thing. My aim's gotten mighty poor over the years. Gotta be sure he won' talk. _

His hands trembling, McKeever took the flask of vodka from another pocket. He tipped the contents into his mouth to steady his nerves while he waited for his opportunity.


	105. Chapter 105 See the Body

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 105 See the Body

Face parked the El Camino beside the barn and paused, his hand on the keys still in the ignition.

_Damn Hannibal for sending me back to guard this miserable excuse for a man. My buddy may not regain consciousness and he sends me back here. _

The Lieutenant closed his eyes and let his hands rest at his sides. Laying his head back on the seat, a flood of memories overwhelmed his mind. Murdock in the hospital elevator pretending to be a dog, pawing at his pocket for animal crackers as part of an escape scam. Murdock in the pilot's seat, determined not to let the plane he clipped from the repair line crash with no survivors in the Carolina backwoods. Murdock trying to reassure them all, but especially Hannibal, that his shoulder wound was nothing to be concerned about. What was it he said? "Just a puncture wound to the ol' fuel tank."

_He has to come out of this. _

Clenching both hands into fists, he pounded the steering wheel in frustration. He wasn't aware of B. A.'s presence until the Sergeant shook his shoulder with one bejeweled hand. When he glanced up, he knew B. A. had seen his actions and realized something was wrong.

"Now you're here, Faceman, I'm gonna go back an' see if the Colonel needs my help." The black man frowned and strode toward the van before the Lieutenant could say a word.

"Not so fast, B. A. Hannibal said he wanted two of us protecting our guest." Face shrugged as the Sergeant scowled and paced back toward him. He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender and left the truck. Getting the Sergeant aside and speaking in a low voice, Face filled him in on everything that had happened at the hospital and in the hearse while he was watching Winton.

B. A.'s scowl grew more ferocious as the Lieutenant concluded. "So we have to wait until McKeever makes his move, Hannibal gives us new instructions or Murdock recovers."

"_If_ the crazy man recovers." The Sergeant glared toward the path leading through the wood lot to the back pasture.

"Look. It's about suppertime. If you want to fix something for all of us, I'll keep an eye on Winton. Then you can run some food over to Hannibal and come right back. Okay?" Face knew B. A. wouldn't want him to state aloud the real reason he wanted so badly to visit the hay shed.

They locked eyes for a few moments before glancing in the direction of the back pasture. B. A. nodded slowly and muttered, "Thanks, man." The Sergeant trudged toward the farmhouse and disappeared inside.

"Don't mention it. I understand completely," Face murmured under his breath before turning toward the barn and Winton.

oooooo

"You know, something doesn't seem right about H. M.'s death." Dani narrowed her eyes as she peered out of the second story window of Cyndy's apartment.

The other woman was silent, staring at the phone as if willing it to ring, tapping her fingernails on the end table.

"Waiting for Hannibal or one of the others to call isn't going to ensure Face's . . . I mean, Temp's . . . safety . . . or bring H. M. back to life . . . if he's really dead." The nurse darted a quick look at Cyndy and then returned her gaze to the street below.

She heard the other woman take a startled quick breath before speaking. "What do you mean by that? What do you mean 'if he is really dead'?" Cyndy's tone turned angry when she didn't answer. "What do you mean? Did you see something I didn't?"

Dani stood, quietly forming her thoughts. The other woman stormed toward her and turned her around to force eye contact. Gripping both of her shoulders, looking at her with tear-filled eyes, Cyndy repeated, "What do you mean 'if he is really dead'?"

When Dani spoke, she did it with carefully chosen words. "We weren't allowed to see the body at all. Why not? How was it that the coroner was available with a hearse so quickly? That doesn't happen, Cyndy. There was no autopsy. There was no embalming. There is no coffin, not even a pine box. You saw the grave and the body bag out at the farm. Why are they going to bury him there? I understand they have to keep their presence in this area secret but still . . . He deserves a military funeral with full honors. His people are buried here. Shouldn't he be buried with his family? And where's Hannibal? We saw B. A. and Face . . . Temp . . . but no Hannibal? He would be there when they buried H. M. I know he would."

"But someone _is_ in that body bag. Right?" Cyndy frowned and dropped her hands from Dani's shoulders. "If not H. M., who?"

"I don't know. Maybe there's a good reason they want us to believe H. M. is dead. I can't imagine what that reason is but maybe there is." The nurse chewed on her lower lip, then seemed to come to a decision. She walked over to the couch and picked up her keys and purse.

Cyndy paled. "Where are you going? Temp said we were supposed to wait for their call."

Dani's mouth was set in a firm determined line as she swept toward the door. "I want to see the body. This McKeever can't be crazy enough to try anything in broad daylight. I'm going to nail down Hannibal and demand to see H. M.'s body and if he won't let me, he'd better have a damn good reason."

She glanced back at Cyndy. "You coming?"

The other woman gulped and, picking up her own handbag and keys to the apartment, hurried to follow Dani down the stairs.

oooooo

"Where's Henderson? I gotta talk ta him." Murdock's words were cool and measured. "This mission's a roll-up 'n' I'm not 'bout to become a throwaway 'cause o' someone else's screw-up. I'll go cowboy 'fore I let myself get terminated."

The Colonel scrutinized the pilot's pain-tightened features and the Browning still pointed at his chest. Deciding to play along, praying neither Face nor Murdock loaded the semi-automatic, Hannibal responded with what he hoped was an answer the wild-eyed man would accept.

"Henderson's trying to undo some of the damage as we speak. He knows it wasn't your fault. Until he can straighten it out, you are to follow the instructions I give you." His heart pounded inside his chest as he silently begged, _Come on, Captain. Just calm down and everything will work out. _

Suspicion and fear played across Murdock's face. His distrustful eyes analyzed the serious gaze with which the other man was regarding him.

Hannibal froze as he observed the younger man's hand grip the pistol more firmly and the finger curl around the trigger. "That's an order, Captain, not a request, and it's coming from Henderson, not me."

_Whoever this Henderson is, he has about equal authority as I do with Murdock. _

That made the Colonel feel even more uncomfortable, knowing that someone else's commands could override his own at any time. He wanted desperately to believe that the Captain would choose to obey _him_ rather than this Henderson and those he worked for.

"I never known ya ta have anythin' ta do with the Company, Colonel. How do I know yer tellin' the truth? Mission's been compromised. I'm too close ta the center ta _not _be a throwaway." The pilot rasped out the words, raw panic reflecting in his tone.

"Just follow instructions and it'll all be worked out." Attempting to change the subject, Hannibal gestured toward Murdock's hospital gown. "The first thing you need to do is to change your clothes. You can't do anything dressed like that."

The pilot looked down as if noticing for the first time the hospital garb he was wearing. "How'd I get this way? What happened ta me?"

"You took something to fake your own death. We transported you here to recover and avoid unnecessary questions."

_That much is the absolute truth. I wonder how much I'm going to have to embellish the facts to persuade you to follow the plan. _

Murdock was gauging his expression, seeming to weigh in his mind what he should do and believe. The distrust remained on his face but he lowered the pistol as he responded. "I take it you were th' one that revived me." He winced again and put one hand up to his head. "Ya did good. Jus' wish I could lose this headache."

Hannibal waited.

_I'm not about to make any sudden movements and get myself shot for my efforts. Let him ask what he's supposed to do next. _

The pilot tossed the blanket off the lower part of his body and swung his legs over the side of the cot. Keeping his hold on the Browning, he muttered, "So where's my clothes 'n' what's the plan, Colonel?"

The older man cautiously rose from his seat and brought the pants, T-shirt, flannel shirt, socks and shoes B. A. had soaked in fluorescent paint and laid them on the cot. "Put these on. You're going to be getting someone to spill some information."

Raising his eyebrows in curiosity, Murdock placed his pistol within reach and began to change clothes without any more questions.


	106. Chapter 106 Expendable

Death Waits In the Wings

AN: I neglected to clarify some of the terms I used in the previous chapter when Murdock is talking about the Company (the CIA). A cowboy is an agent who goes against the rules and regulations and acts in an unprofessional manner. A roll-up can mean two things: an operation has gone wrong or an agent has been arrested. A wet job is an operation in which blood has had to be spilled. To be burned means that the agent has been sacrificed in order to prevent a mission from coming totally unraveled. Terminated means murdered and a throwaway is an agent regarded as expendable. A blind date is an initial meeting with an unknown person.

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 106 Expendable

"Remind me 'gain why I gotta dress like a glow-'n-th'-dark Halloween decoration."

Peering intently in a mirror Hannibal held up to him, the pilot applied fluorescent face paint to every exposed part of his face and hands with quick dabbing movements.

"Because this man McKeever is superstitious. He thinks he killed you and we want him to believe he has and you've come back to haunt him."

_That much is true. From the way you're responding, you probably won't even recognize who your father is. You barely recognized **me** when you woke up. Something messed with your mind pretty badly._

Murdock grunted and shook his head. "Th' Company mus' wan' this guy bad. Has t' be 'bout their craziest idea yet. Crazier 'n tryin' t' kill Fidel with poisoned cigars."

Hannibal shifted his concerned gaze to the pilot's face.

_I wonder what kinds of things you were asked to do. This doesn't seem like it bothers you very much. _

"Yer gonna hafta brief me on what t' say to the guy. I need t' know what kinda info you gotta have from 'im. Pretty sure ya don' wan' me t' talk 'bout the weather." Murdock shot the Colonel an appraising look as he slicked back his hair with some of the paint. When Hannibal hesitated, the pilot frowned. "Maybe I'd be better off askin' Henderson. No offense, but you don' seem like 'xactly the undercover kinda guy."

"No. I'm supposed to make sure you _don't_ try to contact Henderson. There's to be no contact between you and any other agents in the field until he gives the all clear." Hannibal hoped he sounded convincing.

Murdock thought for only a few seconds before he shrugged. "'Kay. I can live with that. But if I catch one whiff that I'm 'bout t' be burned . . . " He squinted at the older man and lightly touched the grip of his Browning.

"You're not going to be burned. You're more valuable alive than dead, Captain." _You don't know how true that is, _Hannibal thought as he put the mirror back in the bag he brought with him from the hearse.

Murdock focused on the Colonel and gave him a chilling smile. "Now I _know_ better 'n that. None of us is _that_ valuable to th' Company. We're _all _expendable th' moment an operation goes south. If ya don' know that early on when ya work for 'em, ya soon fin' out."

_How many times did you find that out? Or do I want to know? _

Changing the subject, Hannibal peered toward the western horizon where the sun was just beginning to make its descent toward the treeline. "I figure unless we get notified that McKeever has come to the meeting place early we wait until dark to position you in the loft of that old barn."

"Sure hope yer men got all that recordin' 'quipment set up 'n' ready t' roll. No tellin' if the guy's gonna spook 'n' make this a wet job." The pilot set his mouth in a firm line and absently let his hand stroke the pistol at his side.

The older man felt a chill run down his backbone as he realized what the two words likely meant. He cleared his throat. "No need for that. This man will be taken into custody alive along with his accomplice Winton. There will be no shooting."

Murdock chuckled. "Well, ain' that the best poss'ble outcome?" The humor left his voice and he hissed, "But what if it don' play out that way?"

"If the plan . . . goes south, and I doubt it will, we keep Winton under wraps and wait for McKeever to make a second try at him or you. Neither of the men were armed based on our last intelligence." The Colonel hoped his words sounded professional and believable to the Captain's ear.

"Yeah, well, intell's been wrong b'fore. Jus' don' want this blind date t' go belly up." Murdock flashed wary eyes at the Colonel. "If ya know what I mean."

Hannibal watched as the pilot put his hand to his head and grimaced, his eyes shut tightly. "Can't seem t' shake this lousy headache. 'S what those little pills'll do t' ya if they don' kill ya first."

"Are you sure you can complete this mission, Captain? We can come up with a different plan . . . " Hannibal stopped when Murdock shook his head violently and sucked in a sharp breath of air. His fingers left the pistol grip and he clasped his head with both hands as if he suffered from the world's largest hangover.

"Gotta do it. Gotta vindicate myself. Earn th' Company's trust back. I'm a dead man otherwise." His eyes were glazed with pain and fear as he gazed at the Colonel. "Now tell me 'gain what I'm s'posed t' ask 'im."

oooooo

B. A. made grilled cheese sandwiches and a strong pot of coffee. He knew already Winton would complain about the choice for the supper menu. He also knew he didn't care at the moment _what_ the ex-security guard felt.

_Sucka better eat what he gets or he can starve. _

His greater focus was upon the report Face had given him about Murdock's condition.

_Wasn't 'nough the fool almost died from pneumonia 'cause he wouldn't let on he was sick. Wasn't even 'nough he tried t' take the fast track by slittin' his wrist. Now he's gone an' done somethin' else. Fool have a death wish or somethin'? _

B. A. shook his head in frustration and slipped another buttered slice of bread onto the cast iron frying pan and slapped a slice of sharp cheddar on top of that. He thought about Hannibal's plan.

At the time the Colonel laid the details out, Face and B. A. thought it sounded like it might work. Murdock was on the mend and all of them witnessed his acting abilities when it came to death scenes. It would be simple enough for him to fool Cyndy and McKeever if they were kept far enough away from the patient. Then Dani arrived on the scene. He was left to guard Winton while Face and Hannibal attempted to prevent Dani's watchful eyes from seeing through the ruse.

The Sergeant scowled as he put a buttered slice of bread on the sandwich half and flipped it over.

Her arrival made the performance more difficult. She would cling to Murdock closer than meringue on a piece of pie. Hannibal was better than he was at distracting a gal like Dani. So B. A. didn't have an opportunity to observe how close to death the pilot got. He had only Face's word on it that it had been way too close for anyone's comfort.

As B. A. finished grilling the last sandwich and turned off the propane stove, he thought about Hannibal's plan and wondered if he had come up with an alternative.

_Only reason I'm deliverin' the Colonel's meal to 'im is so's I can hear firsthand what he wants us to do now that Murdock can't play ghost. Not 'cause the fool done somethin' stupid. _

With that thought in mind, the Sergeant filled a thermos and put foil over a plate of sandwiches and carried them to the van to make his delivery.

oooooo

McKeever sucked in his breath as he observed movement on the veranda and saw the waning sun glint off silver foil. The muscular black man strode to the barn and a few minutes later, the black van left.

_That leaves Winton 'n' my son's other friend. _

He grabbed the flask of vodka and tipped all of the rest into his mouth before wiping his sleeve across his lips. Carefully climbing down from the tree stand, he felt the bulk of the handgun in his pocket as the weapon shifted back and forth with his movement.

Gaining the ground, McKeever shoved his hand in another pocket and located the stick of dynamite and lighter. One small diversion would drive the young blonde-haired guard from the barn where the janitor could waylay him. He knew instinctively these men would not have been foolish enough to let Winton have a firearm to protect himself.

_Jus' take care o' this one small loose end 'n' I can head fer th' border. _

McKeever sneaked across Grayburg Road a few hundred yards from the driveway and began his cautious approach to the rear of the barn.


	107. Chapter 107 McKeever Moves

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 107 McKeever Moves

Dani squinted at the road ahead of her. The sun glowed orange just inches above the trees to her left side.

"It's going to be dark in a couple of hours or so."

Cyndy had been very quiet during the trip out to the Murdock family homestead. Tapping a nervous finger on the VW's armrest she finally spoke in a subdued tone. "What if you're wrong? What if H. M. really _is_ dead?"

Dani thought of the black eye Murdock sported when he came back from the mission to South America.

"'Face slugged me.'" He had grinned at her when he said it as if it were a natural explanation for the shiner. When she crossed her arms and gave him one of her irritated looks he added with a trace of mock indignation, "'Well, if _B. A._ had done it, ya wouldn'ta found 'nough pieces o' me t' love anymore, darlin'. 'Sides, my injuries had to look like I really crashed that plane.'" As if _that_ explained everything.

If one friend would hit the other with that kind of force to make a plan "come together," as Hannibal was fond of saying, could this "death" be more of the same?

She shook her head at the memory. "The way all of this was handled didn't add up right for me. I just want to be sure." She glanced to her side and noted the red-rimmed eyes and pale features of the woman in the passenger's seat. "Hey, are you going to be alright? You know, I've seen a lot more of this sort of thing than you have. If you don't want to look . . . "

"I'll be fine. I need to be sure, too." Cyndy pasted a small smile on her face and peered out of her window at the farmfields and windrows blurring past. "I guess I'd like to believe H. M.'s immortal, that he'll never die. If I ever married Temp, this is the sort of thing I'd have to worry about constantly, huh?"

The V. A. nurse's eyes misted as she remembered the times the Lieutenant came for Murdock to scam him out of the hospital for a mission. She never knew what condition he would be in when he was brought back to her. At any time she knew there was the possibility Face would return to the hospital alone to tell her something had gone terribly wrong and Murdock would not be returning ever again.

She remembered H. M.'s arms around her before he left for this mission. Holding her as tightly as he could, he rocked her back and forth as if not wanting to let her go. His kiss was more passionate and longing than ever before. Had he sensed something ominous about this trip? His eyes regarded her solemnly as he promised her, "If there's any way in Heaven after I die that I can come back as a spirit, I'll beat it back here fast as I can t' be with you, darlin'."

Dani bit her lower lip as she turned onto Grayburg Road.

_Had he known?_

She looked briefly at Cyndy before answering. "Every time he goes out on a mission, you'll wonder if he'll ever come back. That's how it is."

_That's just how it is._

oooooo

Even as B. A. parked the van in the pasture, he observed that Murdock was conscious and prepared for the next phase of Hannibal's plan. The fluorescent paint on his clothing, hands, face and hair made him appear ghostly. The way in which he was bouncing his legs up and down as he sat at the edge of the cot showed he was very much alive.

_Knew the crazy man wasn' dead. _

The Sergeant allowed himself a small smile of relief before putting on his stoic expression to bring the sandwiches and thermos of coffee to the two men.

As he neared the hay shed with the covered plate and thermos, Murdock stood, pointed the Browning at him and glanced at the Colonel out of the corner of his eye. "What's _he_ doin' _here_?Thought ya said they was gettin' ready for this McKeever fella. I tol' ya. I get one hint I'm gonna get burned, I go cowboy."

B. A. stopped in his tracks, knowing one more step might prompt a trigger response from the wild-eyed pilot. "Colonel?" His voice was a low rumbling inquiry.

"Sergeant. You had your orders to stay with Winton and let us know if he made a move. Leave the food and go back to your post." Hannibal shot B. A. a warning look.

The black man glanced at the Colonel and then at Murdock. The pilot grimaced and curled his hand tighter around the grip of the pistol. Raising the barrel of the weapon, he pointed it at B. A.'s chest.

"Back off. Can't trust nobody else but th' Colonel here 'til I know Henderson's cleared things up."

In confusion, B. A. frowned and mouthed the word "Henderson?"

Hannibal nodded at the Sergeant, a small gesture to send him on his way. Setting the covered plate and thermos on the ground and backing up slowly, B. A. gave the Colonel one more look when he reached the van.

"You gonna be alright, Hannibal? Crazy man ain't gonna hurt you, is he?" The Sergeant scowled at Murdock. The pilot flinched and drew back, his finger curving over the trigger.

"You get yer man t' go 'way. When it's time, I'll be there t' do my job," he spat at the Colonel without taking his eyes off the black man.

Hannibal nodded again at B. A., this time to reassure him he would not be in danger.

The Sergeant pulled himself up into the driver's seat and only then did Murdock visibly relax. As the van slowly retreated down the overgrown rutted road, the pilot lowered his pistol to his side. The Colonel strolled over to the place where B. A. left the food and coffee, hoping as he did the movement would not be construed as hostile.

He heard the army cot creak under Murdock's meager weight and knew he would not have to dodge a bullet. As Hannibal retrieved the victuals and brought them back, the pilot once again clutched his head between his hands and closed his eyes, shuddering with the pain of his headache.

oooooo

McKeever paused by the engraved stone in the clearing, pausing to whisper the inscription to himself. "'Billy Murdock, Infant Son, 1951.' Least she didn' give th' kid Delton's name."

He crept along the worn footpath that led to the farmyard. When he could spy the weathered barn, he stopped and scanned the surrounding area.

Removing the Smith and Wesson .357 Magnum from his pants pocket and the cartridges from his shirt pocket, he swung the cylinder out to load the six chambers. He wasn't sure he would need all six but if the blonde-haired guard presented any real trouble . . .

Once the revolver was loaded, he tucked it in the back of the waistband of his pants and fished out the stick of dynamite and lighter.

Whistling softly under his breath, he squinted toward the barn.

_Still nothin' movin'. If I toss this li'l noisemaker t'ward the front o' the barn, he might come out th' back to see what's goin' on. _

Lighting the fuse, he one-armed the stick as far as he could and crouched on the ground to wait for the blast. The dynamite plopped to the ground among the tall grass around the barn foundation. Smoke puffed lazily into the air. Seconds later, the loud explosion shot splinters of wood in all directions.

_If that don' rouse 'em, nothin' will. _


	108. Chapter 108 Converging on the Scene

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 108 Converging on the Scene

_Fool didn' even seem to recognize me. What's wit' him anyway? _

The Sergeant worked the whole encounter with Murdock and Hannibal over in his mind as he started the van. He backed around to head down the road skirting the woods. The pilot had never before pulled a weapon on him with such icy detachment.

_Sucker ain't in his right mind. Is he havin' a flashback or what? _

It was the "or what" that was troubling B. A. The entire incident did not seem like a flashback. Those were usually accompanied by fear-filled words and actions. This was not the Murdock he had come to know as a brother, albeit an annoying younger brother. While still worrying over the change in the pilot's attitude, B. A. heard the explosion back at the farm.

He straightened in the seat and tensed, knowing he would be driving into a dangerous situation. Assuming the noise had something to do with McKeever, he chided himself for listening to the Lieutenant and leaving his post.

_Hang in there, Faceman. I'm comin' an' when I get there, McKeever better run. He's gonna pay for what he done to Murdock all those years._

The Sergeant pressed down on the accelerator so the van flew over the remaining few bumps on the old pasture road and careened out onto Grayburg Road.

oooooo

From a distance, the sound of the explosion was like a gunshot to the two young ladies in the VW.

"Funny. It isn't hunting season right now. And there aren't any shooting ranges for a few miles of here." Cyndy turned to Dani. "What do you think that was?"

The V. A. nurse clenched her teeth and gripped the steering wheel tighter. Stomping on the gas pedal, she hissed, "Open the glove compartment."

The other woman did as she was told and gasped. Removing the pistol from its concealed location, she stared at it as if it were a venomous snake ready to bite her.

"Where . . . why . . . " she stammered.

"Listen. I live in L. A. My family is old school Chicago Mob. I work late nights at the V. A. hospital. What's more to say? I know how to use it." Dani gestured toward the dashboard with her head. "Just put it up there if you don't want to touch it."

Cyndy laid the weapon down in front of Dani and wrapped her arms around herself. "Does H. M. know you . . . ?"

"Yes. He insisted after he found out I had been taught by my Uncle Tabio how to shoot. He told me that until he was declared sane and released from the hospital I should protect myself in whatever way I can." Her eyes grew misty again. "I guess now he won't ever have the chance again to be my knight in shining armor."

"Do you think Temp is in danger?" Cyndy took in a deep breath as she waited for the answer.

Dani glanced at her with a grim expression on her face. "I think that bang we heard is a pretty good indicator."

"If there's trouble we shouldn't drive right into it." The passenger frowned at the gun on the dashboard before turning her gaze on the nurse. "I have an idea. There's an old hay shed in a back pasture near the farm. A path leads from there through the forest to the barn. We can park the car in the pasture and cut through the woods on that trail. We might not be seen as easily if we do that. Then we can try to find Temp."

The nurse nodded, a determined look on her face. "Show me the way, sis."

oooooo

Murdock raised his head from his hands and stared in the direction of the explosion. With wary eyes he glanced at Hannibal, gauging his reaction to the sound. "That s'posed t' of happened?"

"I think our man McKeever's made his move earlier than we expected. I have good intelligence that there's a path that goes through the forest and ends up somewhere near the barn. If we can sneak through on that path, we can set you up for the next step of the plan." The Colonel stubbed out his cigar on the dirt floor of the hay shed. "Ready to get to work, Captain?"

Murdock gave Hannibal a grim smile. "Been waitin' for this moment. Lead on, Colonel." He picked up his Browning and tucked it in the back waistband of his pants.

The Colonel considered disarming the pilot. With Murdock thinking he was working for the CIA and in danger of being terminated, he would be a literal loose cannon if something went even more wrong than it already had. A "ghost" didn't need to carry a firearm.

_But then if that explosion was McKeever's doing, we weren't exactly anticipating him using anything like dynamite either. _

Hannibal hesitated before gesturing for Murdock to follow him down the path toward the barn.

_Hope I didn't just make a bad situation even worse. And I hope B. A. heard and takes precautions. After this situation is defused, I'm afraid I'm going to need his and Face's combined strength to subdue more than McKeever and Winton. _

oooooo

B. A. drove past the farmstead slowly. He spotted white billowing smoke which gradually became dark gray as the grass ignited.

_Barn's gonna go up in flames if I don't park an' get back there. _

Glancing to the right side of the road, the Sergeant maneuvered the van through a gap in the trees and into a field. Turning to the left, he discovered a white Bronco already parked by the windrow.

_That's gotta be McKeever's truck. _

B. A. parked and left the van on a run. Stopping only to extract his gun from the back lockbox, he attempted to be as inconspicuous as possible as he moved across Grayburg Road and into the shadow of the treeline.

_Hang in there, Faceman, an' stay put. I'm comin'. _

oooooo

"What th' hell was that?" Winton yelled from behind the rotting hay bale in the loft. White smoke drifted through the loft window over his shoulder.

Face, his Colt Lawman .357 Magnum in hand, made his way toward Winton and the window. Looking at the ground below, he saw orange flames licking at dry grass around the barn foundation.

_Oh, crap. _

"I don't know but I have a pretty good idea it's our friend McKeever. Sounded like a stick of dynamite to me. Whatever he did, it's started a fire. You stay up here. I'm going to have to put that out or this whole structure might go up in flames." Shoving the loaded revolver in his jacket pocket, he scrambled for the ladder and began to pick his way to the stall area below.

Gun drawn, he worked his way along the wall, pausing at the door before poking his head around the corner to scan his surroundings. Nothing was moving.

He cautiously crept along the outer wall.

_The sound came from around here somewhere. _

His senses were tingling.

_McKeever is somewhere out here. He's trying to lead me away from Winton and into a trap. _

He peeked around the corner. A sudden savage blow to the side of his head made the waning sunlight flash white for a second before the world went dark around him. The Colt slid from his fingers as he collapsed to the ground.


	109. Chapter 109 Suspicious Findings

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 109 Suspicious Findings

Before they reached the driveway to the farmstead a familiar black van turned in at a barely visible entrance to a farm field on the opposite side of the road. Dani drove past both the farm field and the farmstead driveway.

"That _was_ B. A., wasn't it?" Cyndy craned her neck to look back but the van had disappeared.

"I don't understand why he would have gone into an empty field instead of going to check out what was happening at the farm. He must know there's trouble." The nurse squinted back in the rearview mirror as the last rays of the dying sun glared in her window.

"Slow down. You'll be making a turn to the right up here pretty soon." Cyndy watched the roadside ahead of them and pointed when the ruts of the old pasture road came in view. "There it is."

"Looks like it's been very well traveled. Recently, too." The driver, a comtemplative expression on her face, glanced over to her passenger. "Maybe B. A. and the van?"

"But why? I thought he was guarding Winton. What business would he have back here?" Cyndy looked at the handgun on the dashboard and gave an involuntary shudder.

The VW's low frame scraped branches fallen across the old pasture road even at the slow speed with which Dani negotiated it.

Cursing under her breath at each sound of possible damage to the undercarriage, she tightened her grip on the steering wheel until her knuckles were almost white.

When they arrived at the end of the road, she let out an exasperated breath and scrambled out of the driver's seat. Gripping the pistol in her right hand and slamming the car door shut, she stalked toward the hay shed.

"Well, someone's been here," she called over her shoulder at Cyndy. "And this makes me even more suspicious." She gestured at the army cot and held a hospital gown up in her left hand for the other woman to see. Scanning the building's interior, she found Murdock's duffel bag. "Why is _this_ here?"

Cyndy stood just outside the door of the hay shed, the memory of being left there to die still too fresh. Trembling, she asked, "Do you think they brought his body here to prepare it for burial?"

Dani's eyes flashed as she glanced at the other woman. "Why would they remove the hospital gown before Face even got back here with the duffel bag? And remember we saw the body bag at the barn when he was hurrying us to pack up and leave. He still had _this_ bag with him. They wouldn't have brought the duffel here to put his regular clothing on his body if the body was at the barn waiting to be buried."

Cyndy shook her head and nervously rubbed her arm just above the cast. "It doesn't make any sense."

"Wait a minute." Dani sat down on the cot and picked up the empty weapon case. "This is H. M.'s. He carries a Browning Hi-Power just like me."

The other woman was staring toward a darker corner of the shed at some blotches of softly glowing material on the dirt floor. "What's that?"

The nurse squinted in the same direction. She got to her feet and walked over to a pair of buckets and the spots. Kneeling, she picked up a dried blob of paint in her hand and read the top of the nearest paint bucket. "What would they need fluorescent paint for?" She shook her head and stood, dropping the dried paint from her hand. "I think we'd better get to the farm and find out exactly what's going on. Lead the way, sis."

Keeping the pistol ready at her side, Dani followed Cyndy as they entered the forest.

The V. A. nurse nodded grimly down at the trampled foliage. "Two people have been down this path. The grass is still flattened. If I'm right, I think the rumor of H. M.'s death has been greatly exaggerated."

oooooo

B. A. emerged from the forest almost directly opposite the burning dry grasses. His pistol drawn, he surveyed his surroundings before leaving the tree cover. Almost immediately his gaze fell on a prone figure in the grass near the corner of the barn.

Still watching around him for any signs of McKeever, the Sergeant half-crouched as he made his way over to the body.

Drops of blood congealed on blades of grass near the head of the figure and as B. A. approached he recognized the clothing.

"Faceman," he hissed and got down on his knees. Putting down his weapon for a minute, he turned the unconscious conman onto his back. Blood matted the blonde hair just above the Lieutenant's right ear. The Sergeant shook Face's shoulder and groaned inside when he could not get a response. He held his breath as he checked the unconscious man and let it out in relief when he felt a pulse and saw the chest gently rising and falling.

Getting back up to his feet, he tucked the pistol into his belt and gripped the conman under his armpits. He dragged him away from the rapidly spreading flames and let him rest close to the trees almost to the path leading to the clearing with Billy's grave.

Peering toward the front barn door, the Sergeant debated what he should do next. He knew Winton might still be in the old building. The hungry orange flames were increasing in size minute by minute. He had to extinguish the flames before the weathered boards of the old barn ignited.

To do that, he needed to access the rusted hand pump a few yards from the farmhouse veranda.

Not knowing where Winton or McKeever were for sure was a problem. Winton was unarmed but what about McKeever?

So far the attacks on Murdock did not involve the use of weapons but that, B. A. assumed, was because McKeever wanted his son's death to look like he either succumbed to his illness or had an accident.

The Sergeant felt his stomach knot at the memory of the lit cigarette in Murdock's fingers, its glowing tip so close to the match book and CPAP tubing. If he hadn't come in when he did and interrupted the janitor . . .

The thought strengthened his resolve to find McKeever and ensure he was brought to justice, if not for what he did to Murdock, then for the murders for which he was responsible.

But first things first.

The only way to douse the fire was to grab a blanket from the farmhouse, wet it down in one of the pails of water in the kitchen and get to work. But he had to get to the farmhouse first.

oooooo

Close to the end of the foot trail, Murdock grew more cautious, removing his weapon from the waistband of his pants. Arm bent at the elbow, finger on the trigger and gun near his shoulder, his gaze was attracted to something in the sky.

"Looks like a helluva fire started over there." He touched the older man with one hand and gestured with his pistol toward the cloud of black smoke pluming above the trees ahead. "Not part o' the plan, I s'pose?"

"No. But the plan didn't include you taking something to fake your own death either." Hannibal stopped in the middle of the path and blocked the pilot from walking any farther. He knew it was risky but he gripped the younger man by the shoulders and stared into his eyes with steely determination.

"Why did you do it, Captain? You talk about going cowboy but that move shows you were already doing it." Hannibal couldn't be sure but the cold silence he received from the young man in front of him seemed to be laced with contempt.

_This isn't Murdock. At least not the Murdock I commanded over in Nam. _

"Ain' the right time t' chaw 'bout my reasons. If the bait t' yer trap's a slow-roastin' sittin' duck 'n' I'm not in place yet, this mission's fast becomin' a roll-up. 'Less you got alternate orders from Henderson . . . "

With new suspicion, the Captain squinted at the man in front of him. "Henderson don' know 'bout this mission, does he? So . . . who ya workin' for, Colonel? Not the Company . . . not Uncle Sam . . . who?"

The pilot shook off Hannibal's hands and backed up two steps.

"_Who_, Colonel?" Murdock repeated as he leveled his Browning at Hannibal's chest.


	110. Chapter 110 A Matter of Believing

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 110

"_Who,_ Colonel?" Murdock's panic was palpable. Aiming his pistol at Hannibal's chest, he demanded an answer.

As the Colonel raised his gloved hands shoulder level and wondered what kind of response would defuse the situation, he overheard the sound of conversation from somewhere behind the armed man.

_I've got to take care of this before they get here. _

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you . . . son."

_Will inserting that word help or hurt? _

Murdock narrowed his eyes and braced himself. "Try me. 'N' las' I checked, my Pa was clingin' t' a bar stool somewhere'n Beaumont, Texas, drunk outta his mind. You ain't him, 'n' even if ya were, I still wouldn' b'lieve ya."

_You didn't react to his name before, seemed to think he was someone the CIA wanted, and now you remember him as an alcoholic. _

"Fair enough. You _do_ know who I am, though. Right?" Hannibal recognized the voices of the two people now and, with a sinking feeling, realized he had to distract Murdock enough for the two women to understand what was going on. Hopefully they wouldn't walk unaware into a rapidly deteriorating situation.

The pilot stared at the Colonel for several seconds. The grimace on his face told the older man that Murdock still had an intense headache and the effort to think clearly was taking its toll. Finally he muttered, "Big black guy called ya Hannibal. I seen ya 'round base. I knew ya was a Colonel."

_Okay, so only parts of your memory seem to be affected by whatever you took. And those parts of your memory seem to be coming and going randomly. How do we get your mind back intact enough to finish this mission? _

"We're not in country anymore . . . Murdock. We haven't been in Nam for a little over ten years now." The Colonel scrutinized the other man's reaction and noted the panic and confusion appear to increase.

_Not the reaction I was hoping for. I have to get him calmed down or he's going to hurt someone. _

"Ten years? If it's been ten years then why'd ya talk 'bout Henderson like he was still callin' the shots?" The pilot shifted back and forth on his feet, his agitation becoming more evident. "Where's Henderson? I gotta talk to 'im."

Hannibal took in a deep breath. "I don't know Henderson. Alright? Until you woke up and confirmed it through your words, I didn't know for sure you had been with the CIA."

Murdock weighed his words, keeping his weapon pointed at the other man's chest. "Okay. So, _Colonel, _who ya workin' for? I want a straight answer."

Hannibal spotted Cyndy and Dani walking up the trail toward them and made a quick decision to tell the truth. "B. A., Face, you and I have been hired by Mrs. Bartleman, your high school English teacher to help her save the theater in Nederland she's been trying to establish."

_Hope that jogs your memory. Come on, Captain . . . remember. _

The pilot's eyes grew dark with anger and he raised his Browning to aim at Hannibal's head. His voice lowered, became more menacing. "Who dya think yer messin' with? I didn' fall off th' turnip truck yesterday, y'know. I'll ask 'gain. _Who're ya workin' for?_"

"Hannibal? What's going on here?" The two women stood four yards from the men. Dani's left arm was loosely extended to prevent Cyndy from going any farther. The pointer finger of her right hand curled around the trigger of the pistol and her hold on the grip tightened as she noted the armed man with his back to her.

Cyndy was the first to identify him. With a gasp she edged her way past the other woman. "H. M.?"

"Stay back!" Hannibal yelled the warning too late as Cyndy closed the gap between Murdock and her.

The pilot swung around in a half circle. His eyes widened at the sight of the gun in Dani's hand and the other woman hurrying toward him. With one quick wrenching movement, Murdock spun Cyndy around with her back to him and wrapped his free arm around her neck. She yelped with terror as his hold forced her backwards against him.

Pressing the gun barrel against her temple, he withdrew with her into the undergrowth beside the trail until he could see both Hannibal and Dani without having to move his head. "I don' wanna kill nobody. Don' try anythin' that makes me."

"We won't, Captain. Look, you took something that's making a mess of your memory. Let us try to help you put it back together." The Colonel kept his eyes focused on those of the pilot.

_He's not listening. This idea he's still answerable to the CIA is the only thing he's thinking about. One wrong move . . . _

"Shut up! I know who I am 'n' I know they're out t' kill me. That las' mission . . . " The words caught in his throat and he swallowed, eyes full of fear and painful memory.

_A mission that went wrong. Is that why he ended up in the V. A. hospital? _

Hannibal helplessly watched as Murdock struggled to regain his chilled composure.

"Toss it over there," he growled at Dani. Pointing with his weapon toward the thick shrubbery lining the path, he gave her an approving cold grin as she complied and raised her hands in surrender. "Good girl."

"H. M., I don't know what you think is going on but you've got to listen to me . . . " Dani said, every word carefully selected and articulated. She watched his eyes for any signs he recognized her.

After a long look that scrutinized her from her white tennies to her blonde crimped hair, he glared back at her. His stomach twisting inside him, Hannibal realized whatever influence Dani had in the past as Murdock's girlfriend was not going to work now. He seemed not to remember her at all.

"You have to listen and let me help you . . . " she repeated with a pleading tone.

"No, I don't. I can't even get a solid answer 'bout what ya'll're up to from yer boss here. Yer not with th' Company. I know that." The smile left his face as he motioned for Hannibal to join Dani. The Colonel weighed his options, then reluctantly trudged over to stand beside the nurse.

"I'm gonna go find Henderson, talk ta 'im, straighten all this out. Don' try ta follow me." Dragging Cyndy backwards several feet along the trail to the barn, he released her suddenly and shoved her face down onto the dirt path. He ran, a ghostly fluorescent figure weaving his way toward the farmyard.

For less than a second, Hannibal watched Murdock retreat from them before he searched the bushes for the discarded Browning. Dani hurried to Cyndy, still lying on the ground where she had landed, and helped her to sit up.

Moments later, Hannibal rushed past them, the pistol in his gloved hand.

"Wait!" Dani called. She got Cyndy's feet under her and assisted her to stand before taking a few steps to follow him. "What are you going to do?"

"Try to stop him from killing someone," the Colonel shouted over his shoulder, "Or stop someone else from killing _him_."

Before Hannibal could run any farther, three gunshots echoed through the gathering gloom surrounding them.


	111. Chapter 111 Gotta Do What You Gotta Do

Death Waits In the Wings

AN: A bridge agent was a courier for the CIA.

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 111 Do What You Gotta Do

_Gotta do what I gotta do. _

B. A. took one last look at Face, the stream of blood from the broken skin on his temple beginning to congeal. He wished the Lieutenant was conscious and able to back him up in his dash to the farmhouse to retrieve a blanket and the pails of water from the kitchen.

_I gotta get that fire under control or Winton and the Vette'll be nothin' but toast. _

Drawing his pistol, the Sergeant waded through tall grasses, crouching as low as he could. Moving past the El Camino where it was parked, he halted opposite the veranda and scanned the area, letting his eyes track from the driveway entrance to the forest edge beside the barn.

_No one in sight. Don' mean someone ain' watchin', waitin' for somethin' to move. _

His gaze settled on the El Camino.

_If I can get the tailgate close to the door, I won' be such a movin' target out in the open. I can load the buckets in the back an' use the truck to haul water to the fire. _

Taking a deep breath, he got to his feet and scrambled toward the driver's door. Once inside, he heaved a sigh of relief when his hand brushed against the keys still in the ignition. Not a smart move on Face's part to leave them there but then all of them, but especially the conman, had been distracted by Murdock's near death.

_An' Faceman don' even know Murdock's awake. Las' time he saw 'im the fool was still out cold. _

B. A. glanced toward the place where he had dragged Face to safety. In the last rays of sunlight, the Sergeant could barely make out the darkened body of the Lieutenant on the ground. He was not moving.

_Musta got hit real hard. Gonna have to check for a concussion. _

Out of the corner of his eye, he detected a human shape sneaking along the outer wall of the barn. The flames made the man's shadow do a crazy dance on the ground.

_McKeever? He ain' thinkin' of goin' after Winton with that fire so close, is he?_

Even as the black man puzzled over McKeever's movements, flames crept a couple of feet up the wall of the barn. Sparks spat out from the timbers and blossomed on the ground before dying. Some drifted lazily on the slight breeze that had come with sundown.

_Time for action. Barn's caught fire now. If I don' move it's gonna go up._

As B. A. started the engine, the unidentified shape fired two shots in quick succession. The Sergeant instinctively ducked behind the door frame before realizing the shots either did not come his direction or were fired at something other than the El Camino.

_What the hell's he firin' at? _

A third shot sounded, this one from a different direction. B. A. carefully poked his head up to peer out of the window. An eerie glowing figure in long pants and long-sleeved shirt, his shooting arm extended, advanced toward the barn, before disappearing into the building. The other man was no longer in sight.

_Murdock! But tryin' ta kill his ol' man wasn't part of the plan. An' where's Hannibal?_

B. A. had to admit the fluorescent paint covering every inch of Murdock's body made him into one frightening spectral image. McKeever must have fired at what he thought to be his son's ghost. The Sergeant frowned. He knew Murdock was a good shot but was McKeever?

_No time to wonder what's goin' on. If Winton, McKeever and Murdock get trapped in that barn, won' matter who's a good shot or who's not. They'll all be dead._

B. A. ducked out of the El Camino and hurried inside the farmhouse. He focused his mind on dousing the fire and hoped Hannibal was on his way to help.

oooooo

_Somethin' 'bout those two gals was familiar but I don' 'member what. I gotta fin' Henderson. He'll straighten it all out. _

Murdock grimaced as he sprinted along the grassy trail. His head felt like it was caught in a cider press that was slowly squeezing his brains out and his lungs were beginning to ache.

_Focus, Captain Firebird, focus. When this's all done, ya can rest all ya want. _

The white-haired colonel had laid out a plan to avenge the murder of someone called Delton. He wasn't sure how much he should trust what the man said but the plan didn't involve killing anyone.

_Maybe it's all legit. Name Delton's familiar, too. Don' think he was a spook or a bridge agent. _

The pilot made his legs pump harder in an effort to distance himself from the two women and the colonel. He had to get . . .

_Where? Henderson could be jus' 'bout anywhere. But it seems like I been this way before. _

As he came to the end of the trail he slowed his pace.

_If I break inta the clear 'fore I know what I'm headin' into, I'm gonna get killed. _

The barn loomed ahead of him, its silhouette haloed by a fluctuating orange glow and thickening dark smoke. He stopped, visions inside his head from the past competing to be seen all at once. This barn figured prominently in his past somehow. He knew it.

_But how? _

He spotted the man in the uniform almost immediately. As the janitor lifted his face toward Murdock, a memory flashed into his mind. The vision was so vivid, he rubbed his eyes with his free hand to see if it would vanish. From somewhere near the farmhouse an engine started.

Murdock pushed Henderson and the Company to the back of his mind as he recognized the face before him. This man killed his baby brother. The scene played itself out with painstaking slowness and minute detail in his brain.

His mother and father arguing in front of a stairway. His mother suddenly disappearing amidst a series of thumps and moans. This man penetrating his horror with his cold words, "Didn' mean ta do it, boy. 'T was an accident."

A white bundle lying on the floor of the farmhouse. A pool of red spreading out under a small head with wispy brown hair. The light yellow blanket the body was wrapped in absorbing the edge of the crimson puddle. His mother curled around the smaller bundle, trying to raise herself onto her hands and knees but collapsing with the effort. His father walking down the stairs and stepping over the two bodies as if they were tree branches fallen over a foot path.

"Yer never gonna kill 'gain," Murdock muttered under his breath as he raised his Browning Hi-Power and aimed.

The man in front of him fired a shot that splintered bark from the trunk of a tree beside the pilot. Another shot rang out. Murdock's left upper arm burned with a sudden fiery pain. In an involuntary reaction, he squeezed the trigger. McKeever hurried into the barn and the bullet disappeared into the forest on the opposite side of the farmyard.

"Come on, H. M. That shot didn' even hit the broad side o' the barn. Next one'll count." Murdock picked his way toward the barn, disregarding the growing flames and his own pain. "I gotta do what I gotta do.


	112. Chapter 112 Of Firefighters and Gunmen

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 112 Of Firefighters and Gunmen

B. A. hurried with the sloshing buckets of water to the El Camino. There were only two that had been filled earlier that day but he found another two empty pails beside the kitchen sink. He would have to risk getting more water at the outdoor pump.

_Two pails full ain' gonna cut it. That fire's gettin' bigger by the minute. Where in hell's Hannibal? _

With Winton possibly hiding in the loft and McKeever and Murdock both armed, B. A. wasn't sure how safe he would be out in the open. Besides, judging from Murdock's actions and words back at the hay shed and the shot he fired at his father, the Sergeant didn't know what state of mind the pilot was in.

_Be a lot safer if I had either Hannibal or Faceman guardin' my back. _

As he passed through the dining room with the empty pails, he grabbed one of the blankets from the couch. Tossing the pails in the truck bed and immersing most of the blanket in one of the full buckets, B. A. jumped into the front seat and jammed the truck into gear.

He drove the El Camino toward the barn and was relieved to see Face begin to stir where he lay on the grass. Parking within a safe distance from the burning building, the Sergeant lugged out the water pails and blanket and set them on the ground.

He gathered the wet material in his hands and beat a patch of burning grass with it. Lifting the heavy soaked blanket he covered section after section of flames. Minutes after one section was subdued, it reignited. The flames were advancing along the wall and licking upward.

_If I don't get some extra hands here soon, the' whole works is goin' up in smoke. An' Murdock 'long with it._

For several minutes he combated the ground fire alone. The soggy blanket was no match for the flames already consuming the barn timbers.

From the loft he heard an anxious pleading voice and another gunshot. A soft thud behind the barn alerted him to the fact that someone, whether dead or alive he didn't know, had fallen from the loft window.

He was so intent on fighting the fire that he was unaware of Dani's presence beside him until she spoke. "Tell us what you need us to do."

"Be easier if you could keep the water comin'. Where's Hannibal?" B. A. slapped a burning section of wall with the wet blanket.

"He was in front of us." Dani swung around to look. "There he is."

Hannibal was already at the pump, filling one of the buckets. Running to him with another pail, Dani grabbed the pump handle from him.

"I'll do this," she panted. "You, Face and Cyndy can pass the full buckets from person to person."

The Colonel nodded his head, a grim smile of approval on his lips. "A fire brigade line. Smart thinking." He patted her shoulder and turned toward the conman and Cyndy.

Cyndy knelt beside Face who was sitting on the ground where B. A. had left him. With one hand he gingerly felt his temple and shook his head to get rid of his lingering blurred vision. Cyndy dabbed at the blood on his face with the handkerchief from his pocket.

"Lieutenant, need your help here. That's an order." Hannibal turned insistent eyes on the younger man. "Now is not the time to milk your injury for all it's worth with Miss Berquon."

"Yes, Colonel." Face winced as he struggled to his feet with Cyndy supporting him. The couple stood in line between Hannibal and Dani and waited for the first bucket to be filled.

As the Colonel threw the water from the pail over the burning timbers of the barn he yelled to B. A. "Where's Murdock?"

Raised voices came from the barn and the Colonel sucked in a breath. "Don't tell me . . . "

The Sergeant gritted his teeth and gestured with his head. "All three of 'em were in there, Colonel. Couldn't do nothin' 'bout it. Had ta put this fire out 'cause Winton was still in the loft far as I could tell. Didn't know 'til I saw them duck in here where Murdock and McKeever were."

Hannibal passed the empty pail back up the line and received the next full bucket. "You said 'were.'"

"Heard a gunshot." B. A. dipped the blanket in a pail and lashed at another part of the wall. "Somethin' heavy fell to the ground back of the barn."

The Colonel's eyes strayed past him for a second before Face nudged him with a newly filled bucket. "Take my place, Lieutenant." As Hannibal passed B. A., he muttered, "Until I know for sure what's happened, don't let _her_ know where you think Murdock is." The older man glanced over his shoulder at Dani hard at work filling another pail.

Keeping Dani's Browning at the ready, the Colonel skimmed along the perimeter of the fire until he reached the corner of the barn. He peered up at the loft window to be sure no one was watching for movement down below before he scrambled over to the body lying there. Two different voices, one angry and cold, the other fearful and begging, drifted from the loft.

Turning the body over, Hannibal removed a glove to feel for a pulse and noted the visible injuries. Winton was still alive but would require surgery for the broken bone protruding through his right forearm. For all the Colonel knew, the man might have a concussion as well. The ex-security guard remained unconscious from the fall. There was no gunshot wound. Which meant . . .

Hannibal ducked as another shot exploded above him. The sound drowned out the increasing crackle of the fire for a second. Looking up once more, the Colonel saw an armed man framed in the loft window and his heart sank within him.

_McKeever! _

oooooo

As Murdock entered the barn, Browning drawn, his senses alert for any movement against him, memories of his childhood, Vietnam and the CIA assaulted his mind. For several seconds he leaned against the nearest horse stall, waiting for the cavalcade of painful visions to sort themselves out.

Floorboards in the loft creaked under the weight of something heavy shifting position. The noises were accompanied by the low murmur of the fire and an occasional pop as the advancing flames encountered a knot in the barn timbers. The armed man had already scrambled up the ladder and into the loft.

His breaths hitched in his chest as he remembered his pregnant mother crumpled in a corner near the door. Her swollen belly prevented her from curling up and protecting herself against the onslaught of kicks coming from the man who had just run in here to seek refuge. The adult Murdock closed his eyes as her whimpers, tormenting sounds of his childhood, echoed in his brain.

It was a silly impulsive move, grabbing the pitchfork and jabbing the man standing over her. Silly, impulsive, but necessary to prevent his drunken father from killing his mother. He was only four, but tall and strong for his age. The tines penetrated the man's worn jeans in the back of his thigh, pierced skin and drew blood.

His Pa was quick, even when drunk. With one swift movement, he twisted the pitchfork out of young H. M.'s hands and tossed it into the farmyard. Two strides and he had the boy's shirt front gathered in one hand. He lifted him to dangle at eye level.

His breath was foul and he snarled into Murdock's face, "Las' time ya _ever_ . . . do ya hear me, boy? . . . _ever_ do that 'gain."

His mother wept in the corner where she lay. Her whimper became a gasping cry that increased and then diminished. He wanted to run to her but his feet were suspended more than a foot off the ground.

The first blow caught the young boy in the eye. His Pa's wedding ring cut the skin open over his brow. Something snapped in his upper abdomen with the next blow and he began to wheeze. After several more blows to the face and belly, the boy saw his attacker through a blur of tears and blood.

When his Pa finally tossed him into a stall like a sack of potatoes and staggered from the barn, young Murdock dragged himself through the dirt and straw to lie next to his mother. He raised one skinny arm and draped it over her, lifting himself into position to form a human shield in case his father came back. When his grandparents found them, he was still protecting her.

The memory faded. Shuffling sounds from the rear of the loft informed him where the man he sought was hiding. His foot was on the first rung of the ladder when he heard the pleading voice cry out, "Yer secret's safe with me. Just don' shoot!"

Climbing quickly up the ladder, he aimed his gun at his Pa's back as he in turn pointed a gun at another man.

"Drop it, Pa, 'r ya won't see 'nother mornin'," he growled. As a warning, he sent a bullet whistling past his father's head and into the barn wall.

The man cowering behind the rotten hay bale took his opportunity when the father turned toward his son. Winton bolted headlong through the loft window as Murdock added, "Nex' one won' miss."


	113. Chapter 113 Ghostly Encounters

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 113 Ghostly Encounters

Hannibal stuffed the firearm into the waistband of his pants. While the gunman's back was turned to the loft window, he took the opportunity to grasp Winton under the arms and drag him as quickly as he could around the corner and out of sight. The right forearm dangled in an awkward position and trailed on the ground, eliciting soft groans from the injured man.

B. A. raised his eyebrows as the Colonel passed him with his burden. As soon as Hannibal got the ex security guard out of the way of the fire, he released him and let him rest in the tall grass.

Winton's eyelids fluttered slightly as he moaned and mumbled, "Where was ya, Smith?"

Before the Colonel could answer, the injured man lost consciousness again.

"Sweet dreams to you, too, pal," Hannibal grunted. He strode toward B. A.

_Just as well. I have enough to think about with Murdock still in that barn. _

B. A. tossed another bucket of water on a section of wall, dousing the flame and making the charred wood hiss and steam. "Didya see the crazy fool?" The Sergeant exchanged the empty pail for a full one from Face.

"Wait. Murdock's in there?" The Lieutenant paused in his job to stare dumbfounded at both men and then at the burning building.

Cyndy frowned when Face delayed giving her the empty pail and taking the full one from her. She was far enough away to not have heard the Lieutenant's stunned question. "Temp?" She walked a few paces toward them before the three men glanced at her with grim expressions.

Without a new pail to fill, Dani noticed the lull in the activity and squinted through the haze in the air toward the cause of the delay. She scrutinized Hannibal's worried expression from the distance and shot a puzzled look toward the smoldering barn. Her eyes widened and the Colonel realized she had figured out what the problem was.

Hannibal straightened to his full height. "Get back to work." Giving the Colonel one more stricken glance, Face hurried to exchange pails with Cyndy and start the firefighting brigade to working again.

As B. A. waited for the next bucket, the Colonel filled him in. "I saw McKeever in the loft window after that last gunshot you heard. He wasn't firing at Winton or me. He was firing at someone else."

The Sergeant scowled. "Murdock?" He tossed the water on a new panel of flames while the knot in his stomach over his teammate's welfare grew to the size of a boulder.

"I have to assume so. But we don't know if McKeever hit him. Let's hope he's a lousy shot." Hannibal clicked the safety off on the Browning and turned toward the front of the barn. He didn't tell B. A. what he was thinking.

_If McKeever was a lousy shot, I should've heard return fire or Murdock's voice or something. _

"Where you goin' now, Colonel?"

Hannibal hesitated a second before answering the Sergeant. "McKeever still has to be brought to justice. And if the fire can't be brought under control someone has to get the Vette out of there."

He didn't mention checking on what happened to Murdock. He saw from the dark look B. A. shot at the barn and then at him that he didn't have to. B. A. understood.

oooooo

"You." The older man tightened his grip on the gun he pointed at Murdock, the top half of his body visible, his feet still on the rungs of the ladder. "I saw ya leave th' hospital in a body bag."

McKeever's superstitious fear of the unknown was working in his son's favor.

_Man's 'most shakin' in his boots. Well, let 'im. _

Murdock kept his gun aimed at his father's chest and smiled. His other hand reached inside his pants pocket and felt for the record button on the small microrecorder, a backup device in case the equipment the Colonel had his men set up failed.

_Everythin' else in the Colonel's plan's gone belly up. Can't depend on pure military types t' do their job right. 'Swhy they **need** the Company t' step in from time t' time._

Clicking the recorder on, he tried to remember the questions the white-haired Colonel told him to ask.

_Soon's I can get the answers I'm outta here. _

"Ya want outta here, ya gotta go through me first. 'Less ya wanna do a swan dive like the guy ya was tryin' t' kill." Murdock winced as his left bicep and his head throbbed in time to the thunder of his heartbeat.

_How good a aim are ya, ol' man? Was this bullet in my arm jus' a lucky shot or what? _

He saw the man in front of him glance toward the loft window, then toward him as if undecided in what action he should take.

_Try it. Jus' try it. Make my day. _

"Who was he, anyway? 'Nother guy like Delton jus' happened t' get in yer way?" Murdock noticed with a smirk that the name he dropped made his father tremble. The mocking smile left his face and he warned, "Fire's gettin' pretty fierce out there by now. Me, I ain' got no reason t' be 'fraid o' death. You, yer gonna be a crispy critter, ya don' answer my questions."

McKeever paled and swallowed. "Deke Winton. Worked for J. M. Latreque."

"Ya don' like Latreque 'n' his helpers? Anythin' t' do with the shine runnin' business you 'n' Delton had? 'N' what happened 'tween you 'n' Delton? Business 'r somethin' else?"

_Stick t' the script. Don' make it personal. _

Yet he was beginning to realize this whole thing was seeming less a military or CIA operation than something personal. His scrambled memories were screaming at him for attention.

"Latreque was a schemin' bastard. Hired others t' do his dirty work so he could keep 'is hands clean. I don' feel bad he's gone. Glad to've helped 'im on his way t' hell." Keeping his gun pointed toward the faintly glowing image confronting him, McKeever fumbled in his pocket for his flask. "Delton was diff'rent. Played 'round with my ex, yer Ma, got her pregnant."

_So it **is** personal. 'N' it's personal for me, no one else. So how's that Colonel involved in it? _

McKeever uncapped the flask, tipped to his mouth and realized he had already emptied it. It slipped from his fingers to the floor. "Hit 'im hard 'n' killed 'im las' run we made t' Port Charles. Winton saw, reported t' his boss Latreque. If you hadn' seen me bury th' body, I wouldn'ta tried t' kill ya."

The memory of his mother's body on the dirt floor of the barn overwhelmed the pilot and he swayed on his feet. He slumped slightly against the edge of the loft floor and felt his surroundings spin around him. Every frightening painful detail of his childhood bombarded him at once and he grimaced with the flood of revelation.

_Oh God, make it stop! _

His gun hand shook with the effort to maintain the impersonal detachment of a good field agent. Blood dripped from his injured arm onto the loft floor. As he drew himself upright to steady himself, the lower part of his sleeve smeared several drops into the woodgrain.

_But am I still with th' Company? Seems less 'n' less like it. _

McKeever squinted at him through the smoke drifting in through the loft window and up from the stall area downstairs.

The pilot gritted his teeth against pain and memories and spoke in a rasp, "So ya killed Delton, Latreque, tried t' kill Winton 'n' Lahman? 'N' me? All 'cause my Ma left ya?"

His father's features hardened and he glared at Murdock. His eyes strayed to the pilot's left arm, the blood soaking through the sleeve and making a spreading softball-sized stain.

_A look ain' a confession. Gotta have 'im say it. _

"Answer the question."

"Yeah, I killed 'em." His father squared his shoulders and steadied his aim by bracing his wrist with his other hand. "'N' you ain' no ghost. Ghosts don' bleed 'n' they don' need guns t' do their work."

Murdock recognized the moment McKeever determined to shoot. He had time for one last thought before his father's finger curled and the revolver discharged its load.

_Pa always was predictable. _


	114. Chapter 114 Conflicted Conscience

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 114 Conflicted Conscience

McKeever growled, "Yeah, I killed 'em. 'N' you ain' no ghost. Ghosts don' bleed 'n' they don' need guns t' do their work."

_So much for playactin'. Sure hope I got 'nough of a confession. But if I'm dead, who's gonna care? _

The trick was to prevent himself from becoming a corpse before the confession was delivered to the authorities. His father was no different from any other gun-wielding bad guy he had ever faced. Only the most practiced gunman learned how to cover the signs he was about to shoot. After he realized he could almost predict his Pa's movements, he knew what to expect next.

_Numero uno rule when starin' down a bullet meant for you. Duck for cover when ya see the face flinchin' and the finger twitchin'. _

As soon as his father brought his left hand up to brace his right wrist, Murdock watched intently.

McKeever's finger began to curl around the trigger. He squinted to take aim.

_He's gonna do it. He's actually gonna do it. _

In less than a second, Murdock dropped his Browning to the dirt floor below, gripped the top rung of the ladder leading to the loft with both hands and let his feet leave the lower ladder steps. His body dropped below the level of the loft floor and out of McKeever's sight.

It seemed like the smartest move at the time. Much smarter than allowing his head or chest to be used as a target by his father. The gunshot splintered wood in the rafters somewhere behind him.

As soon as his arms were fully extended and his body was dangling feet above the floor, he discovered the consequences of the move he just did. Instantly the bullet he already had in him shifted inside his bicep when his muscles tightened. It felt like a red hot spike poking through his arm.

The slug came into contact with nerve endings. A jolt of fiery pain sent something akin to a numbing electric shock up and down his left arm. His fingers slipped from the rung in temporary paralysis. Wood splinters pierced the skin as he involuntarily released his grip. His right shoulder joint wrenched, felt like it was tearing apart, as he kept himself from falling by holding on with one hand. He bit the inside of his cheek to prevent a groan from escaping his lips.

_Gotta make Pa b'lieve I'm dead. Keep 'im from finishin' the job. _

He searched for the lower rungs with his feet and could find nothing. Dizzy from the pain in his head and his upper arm, the fingers of his other hand loosened and he fell to the compacted dirt floor below.

For several seconds he lay curled up on his side with his eyes closed, waves of nausea and darkness passing over him. A dull roar resounded in his ears. Whether it was from the advancing fire or the outer edges of unconsciousness, he could not tell. One of his dreams came back to him, a dream of being trapped in the loft with flames licking the underside of the wooden floor and no means of escape.

The smoke was thickening in the stall area. Murdock's eyes burned with it. He took short, shallow breaths and knew it would not help his lungs heal from the last traces of pneumonia.

_I gotta stay close as I can to the floor. Maybe then I can find my way outta here. But Pa . . . he's gonna die for sure if he stays up there. _

He craned his neck toward the loft ladder, his conscience insisting he force his father to flee the burning building while he still could. His glance fell on the gaping hole in the barn wall. Approximately the size of a washing machine, the edges of the hole were aflame. Through the smoke and fire, Murdock spotted shadows moving.

_D'they know we're in here? 'N' are they friends or enemies? _

Twisting over onto his back, he felt the searing pain of his gunshot wound and a new sharp pain in his right shoulder. He clutched his left arm and weighed his options. He had to get out but he couldn't allow his Pa to burn up in this fire . . .

_Or should I? Maybe it'd be an end t' some o' my worst nightmares. _

Memories of the child he had once been, the boy who would protect his mother against his own father, who took brutal beatings from that father all through his years of growing up, who knew too much to remain alive, collided with memories of the man he had become. A man who sacrificed his own safety and welfare for his team, who suffered through some of the worst torture the VC offered, yet believed in justice rather than revenge. A man who wrestled with his sanity and sometimes won.

A third thread of memory slithered through the thoughts about the child and the soldier. Memories of himself listening to the rotor blades of the chopper he was flying and the last scream of an interrogated prisoner plummeting toward the white-capped sea below. Vague visions of himself, gun in hand, standing over the body of a bloodied enemy agent. Images of Henderson, his flushed cheeks, purple lips and gagging last breaths and his handler's suggestion to feign insanity to escape disciplinary action.

The three personas clashed for dominence in his mind. Memories flashed through his brain like a slideshow on high speed rotation. He clasped his bloodied right hand to his head to slow the images down. When his mind settled, the soldier persona and sanity had won.

Glancing to his right toward the back recesses of the barn, his gaze settled on a white Corvette sporting a red stripe.

_Faceman. Gotta get his baby outta here. He'd never forgive me if I let it burn. _

If he got the Vette out of the barn, he would be able to assist in fighting the fire and rescuing his father. He knew he wasn't thinking clearly but he had to do something and saving the Corvette seemed rational.

Murdock snaked his way along the dirt floor toward the car, pausing on his way to retrieve his pistol from the floor. Gripping the gun, he dragged himself the rest of the way and reached up to open the door. Another memory flashed in his mind, one of Face scolding him for vaulting over the doorframe and into the vehicle.

_Face'd be proud o' me, fin'ly usin' the door. _

His wistful smile became a grimace. The bullet in his arm shifted position again. He noticed the blood flow from the entry point increased as his heart rate sped up. Right now, his heart was galloping.

Tossing the pistol onto the floor of the car, he lifted himself with effort into the driver's seat. From somewhere outside the building something hit the flames and caused them to hiss and sputter.

He reached for the ignition and groaned. With no keys, he would have to hotwire the vehicle and he doubted he had the time or energy to do it. Collapsing into the seat, his head thrown back in frustration, he began to cough as the black smoke settled in around him.


	115. Chapter 115 Hotwires and Rescues

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 115 Hotwires and Rescues

With the safety off on Dani's Browning, Hannibal cautiously approached the open front doors of the barn. He stood, back against the wall and listened for any sound above that of the dull roar and crackling of the fire.

Someone was coughing.

It sounded familiar and seemed to be coming from the back of the barn where the Corvette was parked.

_It could be McKeever trying to get it started so he can escape. But then where's Murdock? _

If coughs could be as identifiable as an individual's voice, Hannibal would swear that the person coughing was Murdock. He heard enough of it the previous week to be almost certain of that. The Colonel peered into the smoke-filled building and gave the interior a quick sweeping scan, saw nothing, then pulled his head back.

More coughing, this time more violent than before and a small groan.

_Murdock? _

The Colonel decided to risk entering the structure. Whichever of the two men it was, they had to get out of there before they died of smoke inhalation.

He removed a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and held it over his nose and mouth. Keeping low and watching the edge of the loft for any sign of McKeever, Hannibal crept along from stall to stall until he reached the front bumper of the Corvette.

"Murdock?" he hissed. The darkness of the barn interior and the smoke made it impossible to positively identify anything but the ghostly white front end of the car and a faint fluorescent glow behind the steering wheel.

A fresh volley of coughs erupted from the direction of the driver's seat. Then a tentative raspy "Hann'bal?" Another groan. "Sure hope . . . ya brought keys for . . . this jalopy or we . . . ain' goin' nowhere."

Hannibal couldn't take time to express the relief he felt as he groped his way along the side of the Corvette to the door. "I'll get this running. Don't worry about that. Where's your father?" He kept his voice low as he touched the pilot's upper arm with his gloved hand.

Murdock sucked in a sharp breath of smoky air. His right hand reached out and gripped the gunshot wound. The Colonel felt the tremor that passed through the younger man's body and pulled his hand back.

_He's been hit. I know he won't let on until all three of us are out of here but it must hurt like hell. _

The pilot answered, every three or four words punctuated with a gasp. "He's in the loft . . . Got 'imself a gun . . . Ya can't . . . go after 'im . . . 'lone, Colonel."

"I don't intend to. First thing I need to do is get you out of here." Hannibal put the pistol's safety on and tucked it in his pocket. Opening the door, he bent down and slung Murdock's arm over his shoulders. The pilot moaned softly.

The older man shot a worried look at his face. Murdock's eyes were squeezed tightly shut and a pain-filled frown appeared. Tears from the smoke made grimy paths through the soot and fluorescent paint on his cheeks. As if sensing Hannibal's worry, the injured man breathed, "T's alright."

_Liar._

The Colonel remembered a similar time when B. A. and he half-dragged the seriously injured delirious pilot into a cabin to hide out. He had whispered the same thing then.

"I have to do this, Murdock." His tone was apologetic.

The pilot nodded and rasped, "I know."

Hannibal clutched him around the waist with his other arm. "Swing your legs out of the car and I'll get you over to the passenger's side."

Murdock did as he was told and when the Colonel lifted him up to his feet, he took another sharp breath and trembled. Hannibal guided the injured man around the back of the car. As soon as Hannibal opened the door and released his arm, the pilot collapsed into the passenger's seat. Drawing his knees up and curling his body as much as he could, he let loose with a flurry of coughs interspersed with wheezing breaths.

"Here. Put this over your nose and mouth." The Colonel shoved the handkerchief into his hand.

"What'll . . . you use?" The pilot held the cloth in place and cast a concerned look at Hannibal.

"We're not going to be in here that much longer for me to worry about it."

As soon as Hannibal got Murdock installed in the passenger's seat, he got to work hot-wiring the Corvette. With a roar the car's engine started. The Colonel shifted the car into gear and pushed the accelerator down hard. The Corvette shot out of the barn and into the faint moonlit barnyard. All movement stopped as the two men and two women in the bucket brigade recognized who was in the passenger's seat. Cyndy and Dani took a few steps toward the car as it came to a stop a few feet from the pump.

"Keep working. There's still a man in there," Hannibal shouted to the others. He shut off the engine and leaned over to assess Murdock's condition.

The pilot opened his eyes and shook his head. Pushing away the Colonel's hands, he stared toward the barn, one wall almost totally consumed by flames. "We gotta get Pa outta there 'fore the whole thing goes up."

Hannibal clenched his teeth. He remembered digging him out of the grave McKeever buried him in. He noted the blood-soaked sleeve and knew the wound it only partially hid required attention. Part of him, the dormant father in him, wanted to punish this man who had been so abusive throughout Murdock's childhood and teen years and who now wanted his own son to die. The other part of him knew McKeever's death would not solve anything. In fact, it might create new nightmares to torment the pilot's sleep.

_I want him to make the decision. I can't. _

"You sure? The man's a monster by any standard." The Colonel made eye contact with the bloodshot brown eyes of the pilot and knew even before Murdock spoke what his answer would be.

"He's my Pa . . . Past don' matter . . . No man should . . . burn t' death." Murdock fumbled for the handle and opened the door.

Hannibal opened his mouth to order the injured pilot to stay put in the Corvette until he returned.

Before he could issue the command, Murdock was out of the car and staggering toward the others. His right hand trying unsuccessfully to cover the evidence of his wound, the pilot nodded briefly at Dani and Face. Cyndy's frightened expression made him hesitate for a second. Then he forced his feet to continue moving toward B. A. and the back of the barn.

"Where you think you're goin', fool?" the Sergeant snapped as he threw another pailful of water on the flaming wall. He dropped the empty bucket and reached out to stop the pilot. Murdock let out a low guttural warning growl and pushed past him without a word.

"Man's gone crazy, Colonel." The black man cast a worried look at Hannibal as the older man hurried to follow the Captain to the back of the barn.

"Keep working, B. A." he called over his shoulder. "I'll make sure he stays out of trouble."


	116. Chapter 116 Promise

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 116 Promise

"Pa!" Murdock glanced at Hannibal as he approached before turning his fervent gaze back on the loft window. He backed up and squinted as if to try to see inside the loft more clearly. "He ain' answerin', Colonel." Taking in a deep breath, the pilot called again, his hoarse voice growing more desperate. "_Pa!_"

"McKeever! I know you're up there. Show yourself at the window if you can hear me." Standing side by side, Hannibal and Murdock anxiously watched the loft for movement. They heard coughing before McKeever appeared and glared at them from the window.

"I hear ya!" The Colonel heard the pilot's sigh of relief at the response.

"We're gonna getya . . . outta there, Pa . . . whatever it takes." Murdock locked his eyes on his father's sooty face. "But ya gotta do what we say."

"I'm a dead man anyway, boy. I tol' ya what I did. You 'n' Winton'll tell everythin' ya know 'n' then I'm dead. State o' Texas executes killers." A blazing timber fell somewhere behind McKeever and he peered at the sparks it raised before returning his attention to his son. "Dyin' now, dyin' later. Either case, I'm dead."

Hannibal saw the anguish in Murdock's face. The pilot shook his head as if to deny his father's words.

Then he swallowed. It was an odd clicking sound that expressed so much emotional pain that the Colonel was almost sorry he had to use harsh terms to force McKeever to listen. "McKeever. You are _not_ going to take the coward's way out and let your son see you burn to death. If I have to come in there myself and _drag_ you out, I will."

"Ya can't, Hann'bal . . . Sure suicide t' try it . . ." Murdock's voice was ragged as he stared up at his father's face. Blood from his arm dripped unnoticed from his fingertips to the grass. He swayed on his feet.

Hannibal's gut wrenched at the thought of doing _anything_ to save McKeever.

Murdock's breathing sounded more labored and the Colonel cast a sideways glance at him. The injured man's expression was one of panic as he watched the father who had abused him so much refuse help. His despair spurred Hannibal to try one more time to get through.

"McKeever. Listen to me. You ever _see_ someone die in a fire?" The Colonel kept his gaze on the man in the loft window. If he looked at Murdock, he would not be able to say what he had to. "Well, I have. Sometimes our pilots over in Nam had to target buildings. There were times with clean up after a bombing run when the smell of roasting flesh and the screams of those trapped inside were unbearable. To see a VC soldier run from a burning building, shrieking, his entire body blazing, the skin crisping like a piece of meat on a barbeque . . . well, it's a sight that'll give you nightmares for years after."

He knew the image he painted with his words was something Murdock had not experienced as he had. Pilots didn't see the ground devastation in as much detail as the men in the Special Forces did. He didn't know what the Captain's reaction would be.

Hannibal heard the tall grasses rustle as Murdock began to edge his way past him. Reaching out he grasped the pilot's left arm, intentionally stopping him with the pain the hold inflicted. "Where do you think you're going?"

Through gritted teeth, the pilot growled, "I can' stan' by . . . 'n' watch 'im burn . . . Talkin's over . . . Gotta act 'fore it's . . . too late."

He tried to wrest his arm from the Colonel's grasp but Hannibal gripped it tighter. With one swift movement, he twisted Murdock's injured arm behind his back, eliciting a yelp of pain. "You're going nowhere. You can't help if he's determined to die." The younger man snarled and struggled before sagging in surrender. He directed his agonized glare toward the loft window to find his father thoughtfully regarding him.

"Boy?" McKeever's tone had changed. "Maybe we can make a deal. Give me a runnin' head start 'fore ya tell what ya know."

Murdock drew in a breath to speak. Before he could, Hannibal shook his head. "You know we can't do that. You murdered Delton and Latreque and almost killed your own son and two others."

"No! Hann'bal!" Murdock's breaths became impassioned gasps. He strained against the older man's hold before giving up and rasping, "They can' . . . make me talk, Pa . . . I _won'_ tell . . . if it means ya don' die . . . . 'N' I'll make sure . . . Winton don' talk . . . right 'way either."

McKeever and Murdock stared into each other's eyes. The pilot swallowed again and affirmed in a choked voice, "I promise."

After seconds of scrutinizing his son's face, the older man nodded and glanced at the Colonel. "What's yer plan?"

Hannibal released the pilot and looked up at the janitor. "Make sure your son stays put. I'm going for a rope. Should be one out in the trunk of the Vette."

The pilot had sunk to his knees in the grass, his hand clutching his wound, his head bowed. "I ain' runnin' 'way, Colonel . . . Jus' hurry."

Hannibal jogged around the side of the barn. Large portions of the lower wall were charred and steaming but the upper reaches where the water could not reach still blazed. The four firefighters continued to work, giving him concerned looks as he paused in front of Face.

"Lieutenant, got your keys?"

Face dug inside his pants pocket and handed them over before grabbing another full bucket and passing the empty one to Cyndy. Fumbling the key into the key slot, the Colonel quickly scanned the contents of the Corvette's trunk before fishing out what he was looking for.

"Th' fool alright?" B. A. tossed the question at Hannibal as he rushed past with the coiled rope.

"He is, but his father's still trapped."

"Need help?"

"Keep working. I've got a plan," the Colonel shouted back over his shoulder. He rounded the corner to find Murdock in the same position as he was when he left. McKeever had been talking to him and stopped when he noticed Hannibal. The Colonel wasn't sure what he had said to the younger man but the words seemed to have quieted him.

Hannibal took a position directly under the loft window. "I'm going to toss the end of this rope up to you. Once you get hold of it, tie it securely around that hay pulley."

"Gotcha!" McKeever responded.

After three tosses and misses, McKeever snagged the rope and tied it off.

With Hannibal holding the rope steady, McKeever backed hand over hand down the rope until he came to the ground. Only then did Murdock raise his head.

With a grimace on his face, the pilot glared at his father. "Deal's a deal . . . now git . . . I don' wanna . . . ever see ya . . . 'gain."

The older man hesitated for only a moment. As he turned to retreat across the field to the footpath leading to the back pasture, Hannibal clicked the safety off on the Browning.

"Murdock may have promised you a head start, but I didn't."


	117. Chapter 117 Overruled

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 117 Overruled

Hannibal stopped McKeever in his tracks with his words.

"Murdock may have promised you a head start, but I didn't."

Stunned, the pilot opened his mouth to protest. He took in a breath and was interrupted by a coughing fit that left him doubled up and still on his knees.

_Colonel can't mean that. But then, like he said, he didn't make the promise. I did._

Murdock focused on trying to get air into his lungs but it was like trying to breathe underwater. He could not control the coughing and he was beginning to feel light-headed.

Hannibal kept Dani's Browning pointed at McKeever's back. The janitor slowly turned to face the Colonel and laced his fingers behind his neck. He frowned down at his son. Motioning with his head, he asked, "He gonna be alright?"

"Do you really care? I thought your plan was to kill him first chance you got. You change your mind?" Hannibal's chilled words hung in the air between them.

McKeever shrugged but kept his eyes on Murdock as he continued to cough.

The Colonel caught the janitor's eye and motioned with the gun for McKeever to move ahead of him. Before following, Hannibal spoke to the injured man. "I'll send B. A. back to help you to the El Camino. Face left the oxygen mask and tank in there in case you needed it when you woke up."

Murdock nodded, his eyes closed tightly with the pain he was feeling in his chest, arm and head. He allowed his upper body to droop over his bent legs.

_Not feelin' good at all. _

He heard B. A. coming toward him even before he looked up and saw him. The Sergeant dropped to his knees in front of him, his eyes taking in the bloody sleeve. His eyes flashed with anger as he glanced in the direction Hannibal and McKeever had gone.

_I mus' look pretty bad. _

"Hey, man. How ya doin'?" His voice was surprisingly quiet, a hint of worry lurking in his tone.

Murdock's thoughts were jumbling up against each other again and his mind wasn't clear enough to sort them out.

_Must be from all that smoke. _

B. A. was watching him closely for a response.

"Sick," the pilot mumbled. The nausea he had been containing convulsed his stomach and he barely turned his head to the side in time to avoid vomiting on the black man's overalls. Forgetting his left sleeve was soaked with blood, he wiped his mouth afterward.

B. A. removed a red bandanna from his pocket and pressed it into his hand. "Here. Ya can't let the gals see ya with blood all over your face."

_Blood? _

Murdock looked at his sleeve in puzzled amazement.

_So much blood. Where'd it all come from? _

He knew his arm was hurting but his memories were shifting around so fast he couldn't remember why. Frowning, he made moves to remove the shirt so he could see the source of the blood and pain but his hands felt clumsy and uncoordinated. The Sergeant held his wrists and forced eye contact.

"Ain't got time for that. Hannibal said to get you out to the truck and get some air in ya. Old barns like this, ya don't know what kinda stuff they treated the wood with an' you took a buncha it in your lungs." B. A. moved to Murdock's right side to drape the pilot's arm over his shoulder. Lifting the injured man to a squat and then to his feet, the Sergeant cursed McKeever under his breath.

"We good ta go?" he asked, waiting for the injured pilot's nod before carefully leading him out of the taller grass and around the corner of the barn.

At a glance, the Captain could see the firefighters were making progress at subduing most of the fire.

_Still gonna be a long night for 'em. _

Murdock tried to force his feet to move in a straight line but the nerves between his brain and his feet seemed disconnected. A roaring in his head like the tide coming in on the beach on a stormy day muffled the voices he heard as they rounded the corner. Black dots peppered his vision.

By the time they got to the El Camino, the pilot was leaning heavily on B. A.

"Gotta lay down," Murdock gasped. The Sergeant guided him to the front seat and let him ease onto his back.

B. A. scrutinized his face as he did. He scowled and turned, yelling for Hannibal. "Colonel!"

Then Dani was there in front of his eyes, leaning over him, slipping the oxygen mask over his nose. "Just breathe in as deeply as you can. Slow, deep breaths, H. M." He let his eyes flicker over her lovely features, her tear-filled blue eyes, the lower lip she was chewing nervously. He reached up with his hand to stroke her cheek and left a streak of blood.

He frowned and mumbled, "God, I'm sorry, darlin'."

She smoothed his hair back and shook her head with a sad smile. "Doesn't matter. You're alive and you remember us. I . . . we . . . Cyndy and I thought you were . . . "

"I almost was, angel." His voice faltered and he swallowed to get the words past the lump in his throat. "I love ya, darlin'."

"I love you, too, H. M." She glanced over her shoulder as Hannibal approached. "I'm going to go around to the passenger's side, okay? Hannibal wants to talk to you." His eyes darkened with apprehension and he drew in a breath to plead for her to stay. She touched his lips with two of her fingers. "Shhh. I'm not leaving. I'll be here. I'm just changing positions."

She cradled his face with one hand for a moment, then backed away to let Hannibal get closer. Seconds later the truck door on the passenger's side opened and Dani slipped in, gently lifting his head into her lap. "See. I'm here."

His gaze wandered from her to fixate on the Colonel. "Hann'bal? Where's Pa?"

"He's helping to put out the fire." When Murdock raised his eyebrows slightly, the Colonel added, "Under B. A. and Face's supervision . . . and I'm sure under protest."

_Hann'bal don' look happy. Tha's for sure. _

"I couldn' let 'im . . ." Murdock tried to finish the sentence but a new series of coughs interrupted.

"I know. But why did you think your father would honor his end of the promise and leave? Has he _ever_ been faithful to his promises? Has he _ever_ been the father you needed him to be?" Hannibal's voice was raw with undisguised contempt for McKeever. "He won't come after you again if he's in custody, Captain."

_Or dead. _

He noted the Colonel's angry expression and wondered how close he had come to allowing McKeever to die in the fire. "He's . . . my . . . Pa."

"Hannibal, don't you think this discussion can be done some other time?" Dani raised her eyes to glare at the Colonel. "We've got to take a look at that arm and he might need to have another set of chest X-rays and blood tests done to see how badly he's suffering from smoke inhalation."

"No hospital." Murdock shook his head.

"Overruled." Dani turned her eyes back to him and set her mouth in an unyielding line. "Hannibal is not going to do table top surgery on that arm. Not this time."

The pilot grimaced. A smirk appeared on Hannibal's face.

"You heard the lady, Captain. Winton's going to require Doctor Freedman's medical attention fairly soon, and he should take a look at your father and make sure the smoke didn't affect him. So you might as well have him treat you as well. " The Colonel paused. "Besides, you have an audience that awaits your return to the stage."


	118. Chapter 118 Doctor Freedman's Dilemma

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 118 Doctor Freedman's Dilemma

Except for a few stubborn hot spots lower on the barn wall, the fire had run its course. B. A., Cyndy and Face continued to throw buckets of water on the remaining flames. At first a reluctant helper, McKeever manned the pump and kept the pails filled.

Tossing one more pailful of water on the sputtering embers, the Sergeant could not help but notice the occasional worried glance McKeever cast toward the truck. He shook his head with disgust.

_Now's a **great** time for the man to finally act like a father. _

On Hannibal's orders, B. A. returned to the farm field across the road and retrieved the van.

Dani and Hannibal worked together to make Murdock comfortable and assess his mental and physical state. Hannibal removed the pilot's outer flannel shirt to see the entry wound better. Despite the care he took to be as gentle as possible, Murdock groaned with the pain of the movement. Looking at Dani, the Colonel muttered, "No exit wound."

"Which means the bullet's still in there," she murmured in response.

The older man ripped the shirt and handed the nurse a balled-up piece of flannel from it. Lifting the pilot's arm up over his head, she held the cloth to the wound with the heel of her hand. He gasped involuntarily with the pressure she applied.

"I know it hurts, H. M., but I have to try to control the bleeding. Your arm has to be higher than your heart." She caught her lower lip between her teeth as he closed his eyes, nodded and swallowed hard.

"It's alright, darlin'," he mumbled.

As B. A. parked beside the El Camino, the Colonel stood and gave him a grim look.

"I called Doctor Freedman on the mobile phone and let him know we'll be bringing three people to the hospital emergency room. He said he'll be waiting. I'm going over to check on Winton. Help Miss Scalatini transfer Murdock to the back seat of the van so we can move as soon as possible." As he issued the orders, Hannibal was already on his way over to Winton's motionless form.

"We, Hannibal?" B. A. asked.

"I need to make sure the good doctor knows what to do with Winton," the Colonel answered over his shoulder.

Puzzled, the Sergeant glanced at Dani but her attention was completely consumed in applying pressure to the bullet wound and keeping the pilot quiet and calm.

_Li'l mama looks like she could cry any minute. Gotta give her credit for holdin' out this long. _

Nearing the driver's seat of the truck, B. A. flinched when he saw the pilot. Murdock's face was deathly pale under the streaks of soot, fluorescent paint and blood. The Sergeant raised his eyes to look at Dani.

"Hey, li'l sis. How ya holdin' up?" He didn't know what else to say and was relieved when she gave him a grateful smile.

"I'll be okay."

_Don't believe that for a moment. But she won't cry in front of him when he's hurtin'. _

For the first time since Dani had entered the team's lives, B. A. envied Murdock for finding someone who cared for him as much as this woman did. He wondered if he would ever be allowed to have a normal existence, not as a fugitive but as a married man with a family of his own. Then he realized that unless the Captain proved himself sane and able to leave the V. A. hospital forever, he wouldn't have that either.

"Colonel wants me to move Murdock over to the van." B. A. hesitated, noting the sudden tension in the pilot's face.

"Stay with me . . . Dani. Please . . . Don't leave," the injured man pleaded in a hoarse whisper.

B. A. shifted uncomfortably on his feet and pretended not to notice the tear that escaped the corner of the pilot's eye or the nurse's sniffle as her control over her emotions wavered.

The Sergeant cleared his throat and glanced toward the Colonel as he leaned over Winton and checked his eyes for dilated pupils. "If Hannibal don't need you out here, I sure wouldn't mind havin' you keep an eye on Winton an' the fool here while I'm drivin'. You bein' a nurse an' all."

Murdock's brown eyes focused on B. A. He gestured for him to come closer. Reaching up, the pilot touched the gold at the black man's neck before weakly dropping his hand back to his side. "Thanks, B. A.," he whispered and gave him a wink. It was quickly followed by a grimace of pain as the Sergeant helped him to his feet for the short trip from the truck to the van.

oooooo

An hour after Murdock and Winton were wheeled into different operating rooms for surgery, Doctor Freedman met with Hannibal in the family waiting room. Dani sat, idly turning the pages of a women's magazine, looking up whenever someone appeared at the door.

McKeever was being checked for complications from smoke inhalation by a physician with whom Freedman golfed occasionally. B. A. was keeping close watch on the janitor so he did not slip away afterward.

He began the conversation with a report on the ex-security guard. "Mister Winton is having surgery to pin the bones in his arm back together. It was a serious fracture. There's going to be quite a long recovery time. He also has bleeding in the brain and a severe concussion. That's more worrisome right now."

"I would be grateful if you would keep him sedated until after Sunday evening." The Colonel looked directly in the physician's eyes.

The doctor removed his glasses and scrubbed at his face before putting them back on again.

"Colonel Smith . . . " he began, frustration straining his voice. "I've had to call in quite a few debts since I've made your acquaintance. You should be glad I have trusted friends who are willing to do these procedures for me without question. And now you want me to approve what?"

"Look, doc. All I'm asking you to do is something like what you already did with Captain Murdock: only trusted individuals in and out of the room, one of my men with him at all times. The only thing that's different is you would keep him sedated until after Sunday's performance." Hannibal watched the man's expression change from one of stunned silence to irritation.

_Doc's patience is being stretched to the limit. _

The physician sighed and ran a hand over his balding head in a move vaguely similar to something Face would have done.

"Sedation can be used to keep him unconscious to allow the swelling to go down. But it shouldn't be done longer than necessary, not like Mister Murdock's chest drainage tube." The doctor leveled an accusing look at the Colonel.

"I understand that, doc." Hannibal tried not to let the comment about the drainage tube bother him.

The truth was, the way his plan had played out _was_ bothering him. Murdock had almost died. Even if the desired outcome, McKeever and Winton being decommissioned until after the Sunday performance, had been achieved, he was not certain the pilot's mind had not been permanently affected by the drug he took to simulate death.

"I'll see what I can do to keep Winton from talking to anyone in authority about you but as soon as the swelling goes down, I have to insist he be weaned from the barbiturates used to induce the coma." The doctor crossed his arms.

A nurse paused at the door of the family room and smiled at Hannibal and Dani. "Are you Mister McGilvery's friends?"

Dani tossed the magazine onto the side table and hurried toward the nurse. The Colonel straightened to his full height and drew in a deep breath. "Yes. How is he and when can we see him?"

"Come with me," she murmured.

Hannibal glanced once more at Doctor Freedman. "Whatever you can do for Mister Winton will be appreciated, doc." Then he turned to follow Dani and the nurse, hoping the doctor would do the right thing, the thing that would buy them some time to finish the mission and be on their way.


	119. Chapter 119 A Father's Visit

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 119 A Father's Visit

"Now that we have some time alone, would you please explain to me what the last twenty-four or so hours were all about?" Dani examined Hannibal from her chair beside the hospital bed. Her hand lightly touched Murdock's and her brow creased in a frown. She kept her voice low but insistent upon an answer.

_There it is: the thing I hoped she would never ask. Miss Berquon will be asking the same question. I'll field this one; maybe Face can take care of the other. _

Even as that thought crossed his mind, he knew he should not pass the explanation off on anyone else. _He_ was the plan-maker; _he_ was the one "on the jazz." What had to be done had to be done and that included reassuring the women who loved two of his men that he had things under control. Even when he didn't.

Hannibal gritted his teeth and tried to avoid her accusing gaze by walking to the window and looking out across the lawn. "I can tell you only part of it. He'll have to decide whether to tell you the rest."

"I have plenty of time. H. M. won't wake up enough to carry on a coherent conversation for a while and I'd _very much_ like to hear your side of it." The last half sentence dripped with venom.

_I almost forgot that she might look sweet, but that kitten has tiger claws when it comes to Murdock's safety and welfare. _

"We took on an additional assignment while we were out here. That man Winton you saw at the farm was blackmailing us, threatening to turn us in if we didn't protect him from McKeever, Murdock's father." Hannibal tried to give her as little information as possible. The whole mission had been complicated by the real ghosts from Murdock's past and an explanation might only increase her worry.

"So he was after _both_ H. M. and Winton? Why?" The edginess left her voice and was replaced by genuine concern. She absently bit her lower lip as she digested the information. "Why is H. M.'s father so intent on killing him?"

Hannibal had forgotten she heard Cyndy say Murdock was being targeted by his own father. "Both of them can testify about a murder McKeever committed twenty years ago. McKeever's getting rid of anything and anybody that can ensure the state of Texas puts him on Death Row."

"What does that have to do with H. M. almost dying and then reappearing covered in fluorescent paint and looking like a ghost?" Her frown deepened and she tightened her hold on the pilot's hand as if to prevent him from leaving her again. He moaned softly and struggled to open his eyes. Then he sighed and fell back into a state of unconsciousness.

"I thought if McKeever believed his son was dead, he would come after Winton at the farm. I was right. It worked but I didn't know he had access to explosives or a handgun. I figured if he thought Murdock had come back to haunt him, we could get a nice recording of his testimony about two murders he committed and other failed attempts. That worked, too." Hannibal held up the mini-cassette.

He had listened to it after Winton was taken into the operating room. He was pleased with the amount of incriminating information Murdock had been able to elicit from his father before the man figured out the ruse.

The recording was almost as good as the doctored tape they made of Winton when he made his deal for protection. Leaving out the blackmail threat, that recording would confirm McKeever's testimony and let the authorities know about the stolen merchandise and Winton's original written statement.

_A small victory. But was it worth Murdock almost dying? _

"H. M. didn't know Cyndy or me when we came up on you on that path. And who is Henderson?" She glanced over at the injured man as his head made small side to side movements as if he were experiencing a nightmare. After caressing his cheek and settling his restlessness, she scrutinized the Colonel's face for signs he was lying to her.

"I don't know the answer to that question. I have my suspicions but I want him to tell me. Like I said. He has to decide what he wants you to know. Or me, for that matter." Hannibal craved a cigar about now. He looked into Dani's piercing blue eyes and knew she was wondering if she could trust him.

_I don't blame her. This was supposed to be a simple mission and instead . . ._

"Dani?" Murdock's whisper saved Hannibal from the need to give any more uncomfortable responses.

"H. M.?" All of her attention was instantly on the pilot. She turned toward him and lifted his hand to her cheek. "How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?"

"Gotta get outta here." He made a feeble attempt to sit up but slumped back against the pillow within seconds, his eyelids half closing over glassy unfocused eyes.

"You can't until they've done a chest X-ray and drawn some blood. They'll have to screen it for red and white blood cell and platelet counts, oxygen, carboxyhemoglobin and methemoglobin levels and run a basic metabolic profile." She looked at Hannibal, pleading silently for his help to keep the pilot in bed.

"Miss Scalatini's right, Captain. Until Doctor Freedman gives the okay, you're grounded." Hannibal could see his order didn't set well with Murdock. The pilot's half-lidded gaze flickered over the Colonel's face.

"Hafta be on stage. They need me," he mumbled. He shifted his position and winced with the pain in his arm. "Ya know what they say. My kingdom for my horse. 'R break a leg 'r somethin' like that."

_Hopefully he **will** be out of here within the next eighteen hours. _

Hannibal forced that thought out of his mind.

_When has the mission become more important than the welfare of the men who trust me? Maybe Miss Scalatini's right with her judgment. _

There was a rap on the door before it opened. McKeever entered the room followed closely by B. A.

"Sorry, Colonel." The Sergeant scowled at the janitor. "Fool's father here wanted ta see him, see how he did with surgery. Figured I'd letcha know this sleazebag checked out clear with the doc."

The janitor kept walking until he stood at the foot of the bed. "Ya look like hell, boy."

Hannibal moved to the opposite side of the bed from Dani. "Of course he looks like hell. He just came out of surgery to remove the bullet _you_ put in him."

Murdock tightened his mouth into a firm line and glared at his father without acknowledging either man's statement. For several seconds no one spoke.

Dani huddled closer to the pilot and clutched his hand even tighter than before. She peered at McKeever as if to warn him from getting any nearer. "Okay, you saw him. He's fine. Now get out of here and leave him alone."

McKeever stared down at the floor, then raised his eyes to look at Murdock. "Ya got a real wildcat in this un, boy. Make sure 'n' treat 'er right."

Dani sniffed her disapproval.

Murdock's eyes focused on his father as if no one else was in the room. "Trust me, I'll treat 'er lot better 'n' you treated Ma." He twined his fingers with Dani's and held her hand to his chest.

The janitor's features hardened as he considered the statement. "Jus' wanted t' tell ya t' 'member what I said back there 'fore yer Colonel came wit' the rope."

The pilot narrowed his eyes and nodded. " I 'member. If it were up t' me, you'd have yer freedom for what good it'd do ya now. But it ain' up t' me."

"Yer Ma was a whore fer what she done with Delton," McKeever spat.

His jaw muscles twitching with anger, Murdock sat up, this time more carefully. Pushing the covers down, he swung his legs over the side of the bed but Dani stood first.

Her fists clenched, she positioned herself between Murdock and McKeever. Breathing hard, she snapped, "You're no father. You're a monster."

The janitor sidestepped her and came within inches of the pilot. While Hannibal and B. A. both moved in closer to counter anything the man might do, Murdock wobbled to his feet. For several seconds father and son stared into each other's eyes.

"I never hated ya, Pa," Murdock finally muttered wearily, dropping his gaze to the floor. "Jus' 'member that."

Dani clutched at Murdock as he swayed on his feet. He wrapped his injured arm around her waist for support and she glared at McKeever. "Get out _now_." The older man gave her an appraising look before slowly backing away.

A sneering smile appeared on his lips and he repeated softly, "A real wildcat."

B. A. grabbed McKeever's arm before he could leave the room. With a quick nod at Hannibal, he rumbled, "Thought I'd take him back ta the farm, let Face an' Cyndy come in ta visit. I'll make sure he don' go nowhere."

"I'll come out and spell you in about six hours. Then we'll decide the best way to turn our guest over to the authorities." Hannibal gave McKeever a cold stare. "If I followed my baser instincts, I would forego the trial and Death Row and send you directly to hell myself. But that isn't my way."

B. A. pushed McKeever toward the door. Not until the two men left did Murdock sink back onto the bed. He let out a long sigh and closed his eyes as Dani sat beside him and held him closely. His head sank onto her shoulder as if all his energy had gone into the encounter with his father.

"Well, _that_ was a Hallmark moment," Hannibal mumbled, shaking his head.


	120. Chapter 120 Of Hospitals and Plans

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 120 Of Hospitals and Plans

"But I'm feelin' fine. Jus' keep the amoxy pumped inta me 'n' I'll be right as rain 'n a few days." Murdock protested as the lab technician applied the tourniquet to his right arm to draw blood. "This ain' necessary, ya know." His eyes roamed the acoustic ceiling tiles, the curtained-off area, anywhere but the arm she was preparing for the procedure.

_I gotta get outta here somehow. _

"I'll be just a moment, Mister McGilvery." She beamed down at him and examined his arm to find the best vein in which to insert the needle.

_Jus' pick a vein, any vein. All o' 'em been tapped sometime or 'nother. Arms're beginnin' t' make me look like I'm some kinda junkie. Developin' callouses on my veins._

Hannibal had gone as soon as Doctor Freedman told him Winton was out of surgery and in his room, leaving Dani and Murdock alone to talk. Now Dani stood at the gap between the curtain and window, observing the procedure, knowing he hated both needles and hospitals. She crossed her arms and gave him a stern look. "H. M., stop arguing. This isn't going to _kill_ you, you know."

He let his gaze wander from her scuffed navy blue loafers past the light blue T-shirt, the one he had given her for her birthday, to her face. Arching one eyebrow at him, she raised her chin and pursed her lips. "No more nonsense now. Just focus on me and it'll be over before you know it."

He swallowed hard. Then his eyes glinted with amusement as he raised his left arm and weakly saluted her. "Yes, ma'am. Long as ya keep lookin' pretty like that, ya got my full 'ttention."

_She's 'bout the closest one t' Hannibal that can give me an order 'gainst my will and make me do it. What was it Pa said? "A real wildcat"? _

The lab technician finished drawing the vial of blood and removing the needle from Murdock's arm. Pressing a wad of sterile gauze against the needle entry point and taping it in place, she smiled down at him again. "Thank you, Mister McGilvery. I'll be looking forward to your Friday night performance in Nederland. I heard it's really good."

"Aw shucks, li'l lady." He couldn't help but grin back at her. "Mrs. Bartleman deserves mosta the credit. She's one heckuva director."

He glanced at Dani and shrugged as the lab technician giggled and swept back the curtain. After she left the room, Murdock patted the bed beside him. "C'mon over here, darlin'. After givin' that blood, I need a big hug from my lady."

Dani let out an exasperated sigh."What am I ever going to do with you, H. M.?" She walked over and perched on the edge of the bed. He searched her eyes as he touched her lips and then his own with one finger. "Closer?" he murmured. She leaned over him so near he could see his reflection in her eyes. The image startled him.

_Pa was right. I do look like hell. _

He reached up to stroke her cheek with his thumb. "With all this paint 'n' soot on me, maybe we'd better hol' off on that 'til I clean up a bit, Angel," he mumbled regretfully.

Dani closed the distance between them and kissed him slowly and gently on the lips. Startled at first by her action, he relaxed into it and slipped his uninjured arm up and over her back, gathering her into his embrace. She finally pulled away to rest her head on his chest. His hand slid up under her shirt and for several seconds caressed the warm silky skin of her back.

In a husky voice he said, "Y' know, darlin', this's better medicine than anythin' the hospital could give me." She glanced up at him and smiled. Kissing her forehead, he wrapped both arms around her and held her tighter.

"Y' know how much I love ya, Angel? Hmm?" He was pleased when she responded by snuggling closer.

_Be nice if this'd never end. No Pa, no mission, nothin' but Dani 'n' me. _

A rap on the door announced the arrival of a visitor. Murdock groaned as Dani twisted away from him and stared toward the entrance.

_Damn! Who now? _

She hurriedly sat up as the nurse backed into the room with a wheelchair. "Are you ready for your chest X-ray, Mister McGilvery?" The nurse raised an eyebrow at Dani who was pulling her shirt back down over her jeans. She seemed to smirk slightly but said nothing.

Positioning the wheelchair beside the bed, the nurse locked the brakes and asked, "Do you need help to get into the chair?"

"I can manage," Murdock grumbled, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and slowly standing up. "Gonna have so many X-rays by the time I go back home, I'll be my own glow-'n'-the-dark night light even without this paint all over me."

Dani exchanged amused looks with the nurse and shrugged, then followed her as she wheeled her patient out the door and toward the radiology department.

oooooo

Face and Cyndy made the trip into Beaumont as soon as B. A. returned to the farm with McKeever.

While the Lieutenant reported to Winton's room to talk to Hannibal about the plan, Cyndy got coffee for the three of them from the emergency room lobby.

"B. A. got McKeever settled into the guest room he'll have for the next three days," Face commented as he stretched back in the armchair and yawned. Bringing his arms forward he rubbed at his muscles.

"Sore, Lieutenant?" Hannibal smiled at the conman. He noticed Cyndy had cleaned the gash on the younger man's head and placed a gauze bandage over the wound.

_Knowing Face, I bet he played that injury for all he could get out of it, too. _

"And tired. Cyndy and I could both use some sleep but I guess that's not going to happen with McKeever and Winton to guard." The Lieutenant slouched in the seat and laid his head back, closing his eyes for a moment.

Hannibal gestured toward the patient in the bed as he spoke. "If Winton comes out of the coma prematurely, before the last performance Sunday night, he might talk to the authorities. The only thing they can arrest him for is trying to kill Hollis Latreque and possibly for the theft of those antiques and jewelry a few years ago. He can't serve time for being stupid enough to work for a sleazeball like J. M. Latreque. And if he knows what we're planning, he'll turn us in. He'll have nothing to lose."

"So you couldn't convince the doctor to keep Winton in a coma to make our job easier." Face smirked at the Colonel. "You must be losing your touch, Hannibal."

The older man shot him a warning glance. "The doctor's just running out of people who owe him favors."

Rather than rub it in any further, Face changed the subject. "B. A. decided the root cellar would be a good place for McKeever to take up temporary residence. That way, when Murdock gets back to the farm, he won't have to be around his father any more than he wants to."

The Colonel nodded approvingly. "I can't imagine Murdock will visit the root cellar at all when he's released from here."

_I know I wouldn't. But there's still that conversation they had while I got the rope from the Corvette. _

Something about McKeever mentioning what they said while he was gone and Murdock's reaction to the reminder made Hannibal uneasy.

"Any word yet on whether Murdock _will be_ released?" The Lieutenant's blue eyes grew intense as he looked at Hannibal. "He _hates _hospitals. He wouldn't be caught dead . . ." Realizing what he was about to say, Face's voice trailed off. "It was close, wasn't it?"

"Doctor Freedman told me Murdock's heart stopped for approximately three and a half minutes before they could get it started again. He stopped breathing for about as long."

The Lieutenant's skin color paled and his jaw tightened. His hands gripped the arms of the chair. "That's quite a period of time. Have you noticed any . . . " He swallowed and steadied his voice before continuing. ". . . any signs of brain damage?"

The Colonel examined Face's reaction before continuing. B. A. had seen Murdock's changed behavior when he came out of the self-induced state of death. So had Cyndy and Dani. Face hadn't.

Frankly, Hannibal wasn't certain Murdock the CIA operative wouldn't make a return visit sometime in the future. Delusions and personas were one thing; Murdock always seemed able to revert back to his semi-normal self when the mission called for it. Murdock the child and Murdock the CIA agent were not so easily overcome.

The Colonel opted for an evasive answer. "It'll be good for him when this mission is over and he can return to L. A. and the routine he's used to."

_And the therapy he'll need to cope with the new memories this trip uncovered. _


	121. Chapter 121 Released

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 121 Released

Hannibal paused before rapping on the door to Murdock's room. He heard Doctor Freedman's familiar voice which stopped when he knocked. It was followed by the pilot answering, "C'mon in."

_I hope the doctor brought Murdock some good news. The kid'll go crazy if he has to stay here any longer. _

Hannibal poked his head around the door. The paint and soot were gone from Murdock's face though streaks of paint were still in his hair. Holding his hand, fingers entwined, Dani sat beside Murdock on the bed. Doctor Freedman stood at the foot of the hospital bed, arms folded across his chest. It was obvious he was not pleased with the conversation he was having with his patient.

"I thought I'd stop in to visit for a few minutes before I relieve B. A. out at the farm. Face and Cyndy said they'd stay with Winton until he got here. How are you doing, Captain?" The Colonel could see from the way the pilot was smiling that he felt better than he had in a long time.

_Or maybe it's Miss Scalatini's presence that made the difference. _

As soon as he saw Hannibal, Doctor Freedman frowned.

"I was just giving Mister Murdock some post care instructions." Turning his attention back to the pilot, he said, "I'm sending you home with enough amoxycillin to last you through Tuesday of next week. I can prescribe some pain pills if you need them for your arm."

Murdock shook his head. "Doc, I'm a walkin' pharmaceutical company right now, the stuff the V. A. pumps inta my body. If it gets bad 'nough, I'll take some aspirin."

The physician hesitated. "I'm not one for passing out painkillers to patients who don't want them. If you find you need them, you know how to get hold of me. You also still have that oxygen tank and mask. Any time you feel your breathing becomes labored, you should use it. With the amount of smoke you inhaled and the coughing you were doing when you first arrived, I almost had the breathing tube reinserted." Murdock scowled and Doctor Freedman gave him a pointed look. "I'm not convinced you shouldn't remain in the hospital for a little while longer so we can monitor the pneumonia in your left lung but I can't keep you against your will."

_Ah, so that's it. I knew Murdock would find a way to get out of here as soon as he could._

Hannibal felt a wide grin spread across his face which was returned by the patient.

"When can I get outta here?" The pilot sat up straighter.

"I can release you now but it's under protest. There's no paperwork. There's nothing I can do to make you stay." The doctor raised his hands in a gesture of defeat and, letting them fall to his side, turned to the door. "I'll see you backstage then in about twelve hours."

"Thanks doc," Murdock called after the physician as he left the room. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he motioned toward the closet. I s'pose they put my clothes in there. Wanna get 'em for me, darlin'?"

As Dani retrieved his clothes, the pilot gave Hannibal a crooked smile. "If ya don' mind waitin' for me, I wanna blow this joint soon as I'm dressed."

"I'm sure. When we get back to the farm, I'll get B. A. to fix us all some breakfast and then you can get some rest."

Murdock took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Picking at some remnants of fluorescent paint under his fingernails, he frowned. Without looking up, he said in a low flat voice, "Pa's out there, ain't he. At the farm, I mean."

"B. A. set up the root cellar so he could stay there until Monday morning when the authorities find him." Hannibal scrutinized the pilot's downcast face. "You don't have to worry about him."

Murdock shot a cryptic glance at the older man before turning his attention back to his fingernails. "I'm not," he snapped.

_What's **that** all about? _

Hannibal's thoughts went back to the conversation Murdock and McKeever had before he came back with the rope and wished he knew what they had said. The pilot glowered down at his fingernails but the Colonel sensed he was focused on his father more than the flecks of paint.

_Something was said. He doesn't seem as determined to have McKeever locked up as before. _

Before he could probe any further, Dani laid the pilot's clothing on the bed beside him. She cupped his cheek in her palm and kissed him lightly on the lips. "No more talk. Let's get you out of here, H. M." Grasping Hannibal by his sleeve, she moved back and tugged the curtain closed around the bed. "Just tell us if you need any help."

"Miss Scalatini . . ." Hannibal began.

Dani shook her head at him. "There'll be time for talk later. He needs to get back to the farm and get some rest."

_If there can be any rest for him with his father so close. _

Moments later, Murdock drew the curtain back, smirking down at the fluorescent clothes that hung on his thin frame. "I'm ready. Jus' hope Mrs. Bartleman don' get any ideas to cast me as the ghost in _Hamlet_ when she sees me like this. But then again, maybe I'd do alright with that part."

He reflected for a moment and then recited, "'My hour is almost come,  
When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames  
Must render up myself.'"

"I don't think that role was meant for you, Captain," Hannibal teased. All the same, Murdock's choice of words from the play made the Colonel uneasy. It was too near the reality of the last several hours to be funny.

oooooo

"He ain't eatin' what I gave him, Hannibal." B. A. stood in the kitchen scowling down at a plate of food in his hands. He came into the kitchen to find Dani, Murdock and Hannibal seated around the kitchen table eating the early morning breakfast he had prepared for them.

Murdock cast an enigmatic glance at the Sergeant before mumbling, "Pa's stomach's gotten sensitive over the years. I know what he needs. Might mean gettin' a few special groceries."

The Colonel and B. A. exchanged puzzled looks.

"I'm meeting Mrs. Bartleman at the bank later this morning so we can bring that stolen property out to the farm with us. The bank won't be open when we need to plant the goods for the authorities to find. Maybe I can stop and buy something for your father then." Hannibal watched as the pilot's expression darkened for a second.

"It's okay. Dani 'n' I can go get 'em. Can't we, darlin?" Murdock gave her a pleading look and smiled when she nodded.

Rising to his feet, the pilot wandered slowly to the dining room. He picked up the bag of items Dani and Cyndy purchased from the scavenger hunt list he had given them. "My duffel bag upstairs? I need a change a clothes 'fore I go t' town. Wouldn' hurt t' try 'n' clean up a bit more either."

"Didn't have time to get your bag from the hay shed yet. I can go get it for ya." B. A. set the plate down on the table and headed toward the door. Murdock put out his arm to stop him.

"Naw. When we go for Dani's car, we'll get that stuff. 'Sides, Faceman won' mind if I borrow a pair o' his pants. 'Bout all I think I'll need." Looking down at his fluorescent high tops, he added under his breath, "Might need t' add a new pair o' tennies t' the shoppin' list."

As soon as they heard his footsteps retreating up the steps to the bedroom, Hannibal turned to Dani. "I think we'd better find out what's going on between Murdock and his father. Try to steer the conversation that direction."

"I'll try but he's a very private person. I didn't even know his father was still alive before I got out here." Dani met the older man's serious gaze with a frown. "But if you think it's for his own good, I'll give it my best."

"Good girl." Hannibal patted her on the knee and smiled. "It may be nothing at all but I have a feeling there's a good reason McKeever paid Murdock a visit in his hospital room and it wasn't to check on his health."

"Think McKeever's gonna cause the fool more trouble, Colonel?" B. A. sat down in one of the chairs and rested his arms on the table in front of him.

"Maybe." The Colonel gave Dani and the Sergeant a grim look. "I won't trust McKeever until we're on the way back home and he's locked up where he belongs."

"You an' me both, Hannibal," B. A. growled.


	122. Chapter 122 Fishing for Information

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 122 Fishing for Information

Deep in thought, Murdock absently intertwined his fingers with Dani's as they stepped off the veranda and into the farmyard. He frowned over his shoulder at the worn wooden door to the root cellar as they passed.

_Wonder how Pa's doin'. Ain' pleasant bein' held down there 'gainst yer will. Even with an oil lamp 'n' cot. _

A memory flashed into his mind. He was only about seven years old at the time. His grandmother was busy handscrubbing clothes in the ancient wash tub in the kitchen. His grandfather had gone into Sour Lake for a new part for the Farmall tractor. As soon as he saw the Catalina turn in the driveway, young Murdock set down the pail of oats he was carrying to the horses and felt his muscles tense.

_Didn' take much t' get Pa mad that time. Didn' look at 'im when he talked t' me, somethin' like that. Said he was gonna teach me some respect. _

His gut wrenched at the memory but he couldn't stop it from replaying in his mind. All he received that time was a split lip and bruises along the ribs. And a half hour of total darkness in the musty root cellar.

His grandmother drove his father off only after threatening to call the sheriff. Worried for her safety, he bloodied the knuckles on both hands pounding on the sealed door. His voice was hoarse for hours afterward from yelling at his Pa to leave her alone and beat him instead. His Grandma's tearful face and the blue sky had never been so precious to his sight as at the moment he was freed from that temporary confinement.

He shook his head to free his mind. His left hand involuntarily curled into a fist so tight his nails dug into his palm.

"What're you thinking about, H. M.?" Her soft voice interrupted his turmoil. Still dazed with the flashback, he turned his gaze back to her.

A sky blue bird flitted across their path and perched atop a red oak tree. At their approach to the horse trail, it let out a series of high-pitched _zeet-zeet_ whistles.

"Aw, nothin' special, darlin'." He pointed to the bird in the tree. "See that? Indigo buntin'. Male. Female's brown in color."

"You're evading my question." Dani poked a finger in his side and made him flinch.

Stopping suddenly at the forest edge, Murdock bent and plucked a black-eyed Susan. He scanned her face with serious eyes before reaching up to weave the flower into her blonde hair just above her ear. "A pretty flower for a pretty lady," he murmured. "'Sides, your beauty made me forget what I was thinkin.'"

They walked on in silence, their arms draped around each other's waists for a couple of minutes.

"You never told me about your father." Dani looked up at him and noticed his jaw muscles twitching with tension. "Did I say something wrong? I mean, you know more about my family than I have ever known about yours." Her subtle pleading tone made him wince.

_She ain' gonna give up 'til she knows all 'bout Pa. Wonder if Hann'bal put her up to this. _

He finally let out an exasperated sigh. Stopping again, he grasped both of her shoulders and looked into her eyes. His own eyes were smoldering with painful memories. "My Pa's a drunk. He'll never quit 'til his guts rot out from it. 'N' he hates the memory o' my Ma so he thinks he hates me. When he looks at _me_, he 'members _her_. That's 'bout all ya gotta know."

_Drop it now, Dani. Don' press me on this. _

His shoulders high and tense and his fists clenched, he stalked on alone toward the hay shed and started automatically folding the army blanket that was on the cot. When she got to him, she could see he was trembling from the effort to keep his emotions in check.

Taking the blanket from his hands, Dani kept her gaze on the olive drab material and not on his eyes. "I'm sorry, H. M. You deserved a better father than that. And I should let you tell me when you think you're _ready_ to tell me and not before. I shouldn't have pried." She finished folding the blanket and hugged it to her chest. "I just want you to understand that from what I already know, I think you're a much better man than your father ever was or ever will be."

He lifted her chin with the fingers of his right hand and frowned into her eyes. "You sure 'bout that?"

"With all my heart, H. M." Lightly stroking his jaw with her fingertips, she smiled.

He hesitated before gently touching his lips to hers for a second and then stepping away. Regret laced his tone as he said, "We gotta get goin' if we're gonna get that stuff fer Pa 'n' fin' some new tennies fer me." He folded up the cot amd slung his duffel bag over his shoulder.

As he trudged to the car with both, he reflected on his father's words as he stood at the loft window, smoke and flames behind him. _"I die now, I die later. It's all th' same t' me. I'm lookin' death in the eye, boy, 'n' I'm not 'fraid o' it anymore."_

oooooo

"Pull over there, Dani." Murdock pointed to the Sour Lake liquor store. "I gotta get somethin' quick."

"You know you shouldn't be drinking with the meds you take, H. M." The nurse slowly pulled into a parking space and hesitated before shifting the VW into park. Turning toward him, she clasped his hand in hers. His brown eyes were somber as he drew back his hand and opened the door.

"Ain' fer me. Pa'll be goin' through some real torture if he don' have somethin'." As he uncramped his legs from the confinement of the VW passenger's seat, he added, "I won' be long."

Leaning her head back against the seat, Dani shook her head as Murdock entered the liquor store.

"Why, H. M.? He doesn't care about you," she murmured under her breath.

As he approached the car several minutes later, she scrutinized the large bag he carried. "Couldya unlock the trunk, darlin'?"

"How much did you buy? Does he drink _that_ much?" She got out of the car and walked to the back with him.

Murdock snorted as he stowed the bottles and slammed the trunk shut. "C'mon. We still gotta get somethin' he can handle on his stomach without vomitin' it up 'gain."

Dani glanced at his tortured expression and kept her comments to herself.

She accompanied him into the store and pushed the cart as he loaded it with bananas, saltine crackers, milk and cans of beans, fruit and vegetables.

"No meat?"

Murdock darted a sharp look at her and shook his head. "'N' I'll fix his meals for 'im. 'Kay?"

As they left the store with three full bags of groceries, Dani touched him on the sleeve. "Why are you doing this for him? Would he do the same for you?"

"That's not the point, Angel. He's my Pa." He turned away and opened the car door.

"What aren't you telling me?" Dani stepped in his way before he could get in. Glaring down at her, he shook his head again.

He was angry at her for pressing him for information. She could see that, but she knew intuitively that what he was holding inside might hurt him. "Tell me and maybe I can help," she begged, holding his hands tightly.

"I can't. One thing I learned long time 'go: ya gotta keep yer mouth shut on secrets 'r someone always gets hurt." He edged past her and got in the car, shutting the door to end the conversation.


	123. Chapter 123 Drinking Company

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 123 Drinking Company

Dani sat at the table, her hands cupping a mug of coffee. "He won't listen to me either." Her eyes had a hint of sadness and surrender in them as she watched Murdock finish preparing a dinner tray for McKeever.

"It's bad enough the crazy man's fixin' his father's meals. He shouldn't be carryin' 'em out to him, too," B. A. grumbled to Hannibal. His eyes darkened as he watched the pilot spoon some cooked collard greens onto a plate that already had seasoned lima beans, vanilla pudding and saltine crackers on it.

Hannibal shook his head, a disapproving frown on his face.

"Not listenin' t' you, ya angry mudsucker." Murdock brushed by the Sergeant, stopping only a second to bat his eyelashes at him and grin. "But yer cute when ya worry 'bout me, Nurse Baracus. Give me yer phone number later 'n' we'll talk."

He pretended to tickle the black man under the chin in a flirtatious manner before tucking a bottle of whiskey under his arm. In his other hand he held a tray with two glasses, the plate of food and utensils.

"Hannibal!" B. A. cast another dismayed look at the Colonel.

"Look, Captain. One of us can take McKeever's food out to him. You don't have to. And I'm _not_ in favor of supporting your father's habit." Hannibal shot a pointed look at the bottle and leveled steel gray eyes on the pilot's face.

"He needs t' eat 'n' I suspect he'll take it better from me than any o' you." Murdock shrugged as he continued toward the door. "'N' the bottle'll wash it all down good."

In a few steps B. A. was at the front door, blocking the path, saying nothing, crossing his arms and daring Murdock to try to move past him.

"Ya make a better door'n a window, Big Guy." Murdock smirked but the mocking smile had no real humor behind it. His tone turned cold and threatening. "Now move outta the way 'n' let me do what I gotta do." He stood toe to toe with the Sergeant, his eyes flashing with steely determination.

B. A. glanced at Hannibal for an order to stop the pilot but the order did not come. "Stand away from the door, Sergeant." The Colonel placed his hands on his hips as the black man reluctantly complied. "We can't stop you from doing something you have resolved to do but B. A. _will_ accompany you out there and wait outside until you have delivered McKeever's supper to him." Hannibal's eyes settled on the two glasses on the tray then flicked up to Murdock's face. "I _do _suggest you don't spend more time with him than you need to. He can't be trusted."

Murdock glared at Hannibal with a stony expression. "All due respect, Colonel, but I _know_ what I'm doin'. I know that man better 'n any of ya. I won' be long. Gotta get ready for the performance pretty soon anyways."

As the pilot moved through the door and onto the veranda, Hannibal gestured with his head for B. A. to follow him and said in a low voice, "Keep your ears open for trouble, Sergeant."

B. A. nodded, his face still reflecting his concern.

"Comin', oh Barackian one?" Murdock called from the bottom step.

oooooo

"Still don't know why ya wanna do this on your own." B. A. gripped Murdock by the elbow as they paused at the cellar door. "He makes any move to hurt ya, ya pound on that door. Okay, fool?"

_As if I can't take care o' myself. No use t' argue with 'im, though. Hannibal put 'im up to it. He's jus' followin' orders. _

"Gotcha, Big Guy." The pilot winked and gave the Sergeant a lopsided grin. It vanished as he carefully descended the rickety wooden steps to the earth floor below.

McKeever sat on the edge of the army cot, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together. The oil lamp cast a feeble glow from one of the shelves. A few mason jars glinted faintly in the low light. Murdock shuddered as he remembered similar conditions reserved for the most uncooperative prisoners at one POW camp where he stayed.

_No man should have t' be locked up like this. _

Looking up, the janitor frowned at first, then raised his eyebrows and smirked as he saw the two glasses and whiskey bottle.

"Yer gonna join me? Strong drink fer someone not used t' it."

"Who says I ain't?" Murdock set the bottle on one of the cellar shelves.

Placing the tray in his father's lap, he grabbed the wooden chair B. A. had put down there and straddled it. He folded his arms on the chair back and rested his chin on his arms. Scrutinizing his father, he took in the overly thin frame and the road map of wrinkles in the man's face.

_He ain't been eatin' good fer a while. 'N' the booze's aged him by least a decade. _

"Eat first, Pa. I picked things yer stomach can handle."

"How'd ya know what t' fix?" McKeever picked at the collard greens with the fork.

"Guys at the V. A. hospital, new arrivals from Skid Row. Their guts're all shot t' hell with booze, too. It's the kinda food they're given. 'Course we don' eat much in the way o' collard greens in California." The pilot watched as his father took a few bites of each thing on the tray and then set it aside half empty.

_He wasn' lyin' then. _

"'Preciate the meal but I can' eat much, boy. Stomach don' let me. Be pukin' food 'n' blood if I eat much more." McKeever's eyes wandered to the bottle on the shelf. "Have a drink with me?"

"That's why there's two glasses." Murdock opened the bottle and poured equal shares of whiskey. Handing one to his father and sitting on the chair as he had been, he lifted his glass. "It's prob'ly a little better bourbon whiskey than yer used to. Cheers, Pa." He took a mouthful and swallowed it, wincing slightly at the burn it made as it went down.

_Man shouldn' hafta drink 'lone either. 'N' this way I can control how much 'n' when he gets it._

"The V. A. hospital? Ya work there?" McKeever greedily gulped a third of his drink and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

_He don' know. I wonder how much he **does** know 'bout what I did after I left Sour Lake. _

Murdock gave him a piercing look and shook his head. "Ya really didn't keep track o' my whereabouts, didya?"

McKeever shrugged and took another swallow from his glass. "Ya disappeared, boy. Yer grandparents tol' me 'bout yer joinin' up t' go t' Nam. Never knew if ya came back 'live 'r in a bag. Figured I'd never see ya 'gain."

_'N' that woulda served yer purposes jus' fine, wouldn' it? _

The pilot squelched the bitterness with another gulp of whiskey.

_Least the burn takes the focus off the pain. _

He wasn't prepared for the vivid memory that followed. It seared his mind as brutally as the drink he had just swallowed. He absently shifted his position in the chair and rubbed at his forearm where the deepest of the scars snaked white from wrist to elbow.

_Does Pa really wanna know my history? Now, after all these years? _

With a tightening of his muscles, Murdock explained. "After Nam I was put in a V. A. psych ward. That's where I've _lived_ for ten years. They didn' give me the name Howlin' Mad in Nam fer nothin'."

"So yer not runnin' from the law like yer friends are. Nuts, huh?" The older man tipped the rest of the contents into his mouth. His eyes carefully examined his son's face as he held out his glass for more.

"No, condiments." Murdock stood and grabbed the bottle from the shelf. After splashing more whiskey into his father's glass, he brought the bottle back with him to the chair and sat down again.

His father gave him a puzzled look and he realized McKeever didn't understand the last remark. "Never min', Pa. It's an ol' joke." He stared into the contents of the glass while he responded to his father's question. "They tell me I was out o' it for a month 'r two after the return home to the States, starin' off inta space, not eatin', not respondin' to anyone. Large chunks o' my memory're buried so deep it's like peelin' an onion t' get at 'em."

He tilted back his glass. The burn wasn't quite as bad as it was with the first swallow. He glanced up to see his father's sudden frown and understood what McKeever was thinking.

"That's right, Pa. Mosta this didn' hafta happen 'cause I wouldn'ta 'membered if ya hadn' reminded me. Yer secret woulda stayed hidden."


	124. Chapter 124 Sobering Thoughts

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 124 Sobering Thoughts

B. A. closed the cellar door as Murdock carefully maneuvered down the wooden stairs. The faint glow of the oil lamp did little to illuminate the bottom steps and the upper steps received only the fading rays of daylight. The "Gotcha, Big Guy," response he had received from the pilot did little to reassure the black man that Murdock would call for help if he needed it.

_Crazy fool gonna get himself killed. It's like walkin' directly into enemy fire. An' what was Hannibal thinkin', lettin' him do this anyway? _

The Sergeant waited, listening carefully for any signs of trouble. Except for the low murmur of conversation and the nocturnal chirping of crickets, he heard nothing.

After ten minutes had passed, he began to pace. The pilot was taking a lot more time than Hannibal suggested he spend in his father's company. Flexing his fists, B. A. tried to stifle the rising worry over his team mate's safety.

_Maybe McKeever did somethin' to the crazy man an' I didn't hear it. _

Another ten minutes passed without incident. B. A. crept nearer to the cellar door and considered putting his ear to it to hear what was being said. There were two distinct voices. Neither sounded anxious or angry. And that puzzled him.

Just as he was about to open the cellar door and storm down the steps to find out what was going on, someone knocked on the worn wood from the inside of the cellar.

"Ready t' go."

B. A. muscled the heavy door open and Murdock emerged, the half empty whiskey bottle tucked under his arm and the tray of half-eaten food in his hand. He had left the two glasses in the cellar.

"Miss me much, Big Guy?" Swaying on his feet, the pilot smirked at the Sergeant as he closed the door.

B. A. slid the padlock into the hasp and locked it. Straightening and glancing at Murdock, he wrinkled his nose. "Man, you're drunk. Hannibal ain't gonna like this. Neither is Dani."

Murdock put a finger to his lips, almost allowing the bottle to fall to the ground from under his arm. "Shhh! We won' tell 'em then. 'Kay?"

"Here, let me take that b'fore you trip over your own feet." B. A. grabbed the bottle and the tray from the pilot as he began to stagger through the overgrown weeds to the veranda. "Soon as you get in there, get some coffee down you. You gotta go on stage in about two hours. Hannibal's gonna want to leave in about an hour."

Turning around to walk backwards, Murdock gave B. A. a clumsy salute and tripped, toppling to the ground.

Staring up at B. A. in amusement, he slurred, "Come, let me taste my horse,  
Who is to bear me like a thunderbolt  
Against the bosom of the Prince of Wales . . . "

The Sergeant growled and sidestepped him. "Listen, fool. You stay there an' I'll get Hannibal."

"Aw, ya promised ya wouldn' tell." The pilot shot an exaggerated pouting glance at B. A.'s retreating back and closed his eyes to wait for the Sergeant's return.

oooooo

"I'm disappointed in you, Captain." Hannibal filled Murdock's cup a third time and set the coffee pot back on the propane stove burner.

The younger man kept his gaze on the steam rising from the cup as he muttered, "'N' you know I ain' done anythin' like this fer a long time. Man needed t' have a drinkin' partner 'n' stuff needed t' be said. I can still go on stage."

"Are you sure?" The Colonel sat down and scrutinized the pilot's face from across the table. "I can go on for you tonight." He ignored the low rumbling groan that came from the direction of the Sergeant seated on the couch.

"My audience awaits." Murdock tilted the cup to his lips. "I'll be fine."

"How much _did _you have to drink?" Dani raised an eyebrow as the pilot let his eyes flicker on her angry face and drop again to examine the grain of the table.

"'Nough," he muttered. "Nex' time I'll know my limit. I'll nurse the first glass 'slong as I can."

To his right side, Dani let out a frustrated sigh and shook her head. She opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it and sighed again.

Murdock lifted a guilty gaze and gave her a halfhearted smile. "I'm sorry, darlin'. Won' happen 'gain. Forgive me?" He watched her expression with pleading eyes and was relieved when she leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek.

"No more drinking. You got that, mister?" Her blue eyes were misty as she said it, her face inches from his own.

He had to swallow before he could answer. "But . . ." He hesitated when he saw the fire creep back into her expression. "None. Nada. Promise," he mumbled, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Thank you," she murmured and kissed him lightly on the lips.

Clearing his throat, Hannibal rose from his seat, the keys to the van in his hand. "If you're ready, Captain, we should get going."

Murdock drained the cup, wincing as the contents burned the inside of his mouth. "Ready, Colonel." He stood and offered his arm to Dani. "Escort you to the chariot, ma'am?"

B. A. made eye contact with the pilot as he passed the couch, Dani's arm linked in his. "Listen, man. Don't let your Pa drag you to his level. Your Pa's problem ain't your problem. His lifestyle ain't yours."

Murdock hesitated, staring with wariness and suspicion at the black man. "How do _you_ know?" he growled.

"Because you ain't him an' never _will_ be him." The Sergeant let a flicker of a smile cross his face before muttering, "Now go on. Your audience's waitin', fool."

oooooo

Dani nudged Hannibal and leaned over to whisper in his ear. "When H. M. told me he was going to be doing Shakespeare, I have to admit, I didn't know if it was his thing or not. He's good at impressions of famous people but a dramatic actor?"

The Colonel nodded. "I wasn't sure either at first. It's a demanding role and we haven't even got to the sword fight. Wait until you see that."

Her eyes widened slightly and she turned her attention back to the performance. Murdock had strode onstage to meet Evan Dunlow who portrayed Prince Harry.

Hannibal watched Dani smile at the sound of the pilot's confident voice as he delivered his lines and drew his sword.

There it was again. That feeling of pride that had seemed so foreign the first time it appeared. The Colonel settled back in his seat and glanced beside him at Dani.

_I have a hunch someday our Captain is going to marry this woman. I wonder what their children will be like. _

The knowledge that McKeever had never been proud of Murdock angered Hannibal. Not only the pilot's distinguished military record but his moral character and keen intelligence were things the Colonel thought any father would want to brag about to others.

_And instead the man abused him throughout his childhood and adolescence and wanted to kill him when he returned to Texas. _

Murdock parried a blow by Dunlow and backed up. With a mesmerized look on her face, Dani followed the action and gasped when the pilot fell to the stage and gave his death monologue.

Hannibal grimaced at the thought of how close Murdock had come to actually being killed on stage by Hollis Latreque. He rubbed his eyes for a moment, remembering Latreque slashing through the fabric of the backdrop with the antique sword and the helplessness he felt as Winton and Latreque forced Murdock and Cyndy offstage at gunpoint.

Dani leaned over again to whisper, "I see what you mean. That sword fight seemed so real I'll be glad when I see H. M. come out for the curtain call just to know he's still alive."

_You and me both, Miss Scalatini, _Hannibal thought. _You and me both._


	125. Chapter 125 Just Friends

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 125 Just Friends

Mrs. Bartleman came out on the stage after the curtain calls. She announced to an ecstatic crowd that with that night's box office receipts, the theater building was paid off and they were able to operate in the black. Dani and Hannibal had not yet made their way past the groups of theater goers who clustered near the stage congratulating the theater owner.

"What'n the world was goin' on with ya out there t'night, Buttercup?" Murdock waited for them with Cyndy in a darker corner of the back stage area.

_Jus' as well they ain' here yet. Somethin's wrong 'n' I can't get it outta her if they're here breathin' down our necks. _

Cyndy leaned against the wall, her gaze on the floor. Murdock's hands were flat-palmed against the wall on either side of her shoulders and he leaned in and tilted his head to try to gain eye contact. Except for the lack of a smile, her expression was unreadable. She met his question with brooding silence and his probing stare with evasion.

"Hey." Straightening up, he lifted her chin with one hand and searched her eyes. "I'm not mad atcha. Jus' wanna know what's wrong."

She shook her head and removed his hand from her face. "Nothing," she mumbled.

_That's a lie. She's jus' 'fraid o' tellin' me what it is. _

"Aw, c'mon Cyndy. That ol' magic wasn' there t'night. Ya said yer lines like the las' place ya wanted t' be was there on stage with me." He desperately needed to find something to do with his hands. The costume he wore had no pockets he could stuff them into. None of the cast had changed into their street clothes yet.

Propping his back against the wall beside her, he picked at one of the scabs that had formed over the glass cuts on the fingers of his left hand.

"Don't. You'll make it bleed." Cyndy gently took his hands in hers and faced him. His gaze flickered up from the scabs on his fingers to her face.

"Then tell me." He frowned, the confusion and worry evident in his eyes. "Did Faceman do somethin' he shouldn'ta? I can talk t' 'im if ya want."

_Do more'n talk t' 'im if he did somethin' t' hurt ya. _

She shook her head more vigorously.

"Then what?" His voice rose and he hadn't meant it to. From the corner of his eye he saw Pete Stollmeier glance with curiosity in their direction before returning to his lighthearted conversation with Tim Lourdon. "Then what, Cyndy?" he asked again in a hoarse whisper.

"It was different last week when Dani wasn't here and I hadn't seen how serious the two of you were about each other." She bit her lip and averted her eyes again. "And I'm still working through my feelings from when I thought you were dead." Shivering slightly, she added, "When I did see you, it was like you were someone else."

Murdock nodded, his eyes clouded with the memory of what Hannibal, Cyndy and Dani said about the episode on the path. He had been astounded when Hannibal told him he had held a gun on Cyndy.

_'Course I know what part o' my past I thought I was in when I did that. What can I tell 'er 'bout that? It wasn' Hannibal's fault my death was so real-lookin'. 'N' I don' 'member anythin' very well 'til I was talkin' t' Pa with the barn burnin' down 'round us. _

It nagged at him like a sliver under his skin that couldn't be easily removed.

_Will I do that 'gain someday? Maybe hurt someone nex' time? _

There were too many nightmares, too many uncontrolled flashbacks during this trip for him to believe he wouldn't slip down one of those rabbit holes again and never resurface. He wouldn't be faking insanity then. The next time could be his ticket to a permanent home on the V. A. psych ward.

_Be like Smitty down the hall from me, droolin' his soft foods on his bib 'n' babblin' nonsense all the time. _

He shuddered involuntarily. "I said I was sorry 'bout all that. I _wasn'_ myself. Ya gotta b'lieve me. 'N' I _never _wanted t' hurt you. Dani either." It was his turn to hold her hands tightly in his. His gaze fell on the silly drawing of a helicopter with Snoopy at the controls he had drawn with black marker on her cast. It was near the wrist so she could see it even when the long sleeves of her medieval gown covered the rest of the plaster.

When his eyes wandered back to her face, he noticed a tear trickling down her cheek. Concerned, he touched it with his forefinger and let it balance on his fingertip until it fell to the floor between them.

"H. M. . . . " She wrapped her arms around his waist before he knew what was happening and buried her emotions in the warmth of his shoulder. He hesitated before hugging her in return.

_Any second Dani's gonna come backstage 'n' what'll she think? _

His mind raced with what he could do to comfort Cyndy without being caught in such a compromising position.

Moments later she kissed him, letting her lips linger on his. When she pulled back, she took in a deep breath and smiled up at him. "I'll do better tomorrow night, H. M. Don't worry about me. We'll always be friends, right?" With one more sad smile, she turned and walked toward the door leading to the women's dressing room.

Mouth slightly agape, he watched her hesitate at the door before opening it. She glanced back at him and then at Hannibal and Dani as they approached Murdock from the side. Seconds later the door shut and she was gone.

"Another good performance tonight." Hannibal squinted at him and then toward the opposite end of the back stage where Cyndy had gone. "Your leading lady's in the changing room, I presume?"

Murdock nodded, his mouth still open, his eyes on the changing room door and still reflecting his surprise.

"Anything wrong, Captain?" The Colonel analyzed his expression carefully.

The pilot shook his head, more to clear his mind and refocus than to answer the question. When he finally let his eyes meet Hannibal's, he saw a puzzled frown.

_Bet he thinks I'm hearin' from Billy 'gain 'r somethin' else crazy. _

Straightening to full height, Murdock met the frown with a nonchalant shrug and grin he did not feel. "Naw, nothin's wrong, Hannibal."

Dani nestled against him, her arms around his neck. "You were sensational, H. M. The best actor on stage tonight."

_Dani. I hafta keep my focus on her. Cyndy belongs t' the past. Dani's my future. _

To convince himself of that, he pulled her with one arm into a tight embrace and brushed her lips with his. "Wasn' all me, darlin'. There's lotsa talent here."

Doctor Freedman paused on his way to the men's dressing room. "Your friend Deke Winton has been responding to stimuli. When his fingertips are poked with the tip of a pen, he reacts with a twitch. He isn't conscious yet but he may be in one or two days. You might want to have one of your men with him at all times."

Hannibal exchanged a concerned look with Murdock and the physician. "Will do, doc. The last thing we need is to have to dodge the authorites and leave before Sunday evening is over."

As Doctor Freedman continued on his way to the dressing room, Hannibal frowned. "Well, that makes things a little more difficult. You'll have to take a turn sitting with Winton in the hospital, Captain."

Even before the Colonel finished, Murdock shook his head. "Pa's gotta have several small meals a day 'n' I'd rather I'd be the one t' serve 'im."

"That wasn't a suggestion, Captain. Until this mission is over, I'm going to need all four of us to take turns with your father and Winton. Miss Berquon and Miss Scalatini can't. It isn't safe for them." Hannibal's steely gaze softened somewhat. "You can take the late night shift at the hospital. That'll free you up to do what you feel you need to for your father during the day."

Murdock scrutinized the Colonel's face before nodding his assent.

_I wonder if he knows. Even if he does, he can't stop me. Gotta do what I gotta do. _

As memories of the past tormented him, Murdock remembered B. A.'s words: "Your Pa's problem ain't your problem. His lifestyle ain't yours. You ain't him an' never _will_ be him."

Somewhere in his mind a voice responded, "You're more like him than you think. You'll see. Give it time.**"**


	126. Chapter 126 A Father's Influence

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 126 A Father's Influence

"I'll send B. A. in at about six in the morning to take your place, Captain." Hannibal looked at Murdock and Dani as they stood arm in arm beside the van. "Do you think you'll need anything else besides what you have there?"

Murdock carried a large paper bag with a half gallon of milk, a bag of animal crackers, two plastic glasses and _Peter Pan_.

"Well, I don' know. Let me think on that." The pilot slid his arm around Dani's waist and drew her nearer. "A snack, a good book 'n' some mighty fine company . . . I guess that'll get me through the night. Don' know if Winton'll like the book much. He didn' seem like the flyin' through the air sorta guy. Maybe Cap'n Hook's more his type." His smile disappeared. "Look, Colonel, if Pa gives ya any trouble . . . "

"It's late. I'll check on him once more to make sure he doesn't need anything before we all head to bed. Will that satisfy you?"

_No, I'd rather be there with Pa, makin' sure he don' drink too much, keepin' 'im company for a while. _

Murdock thought for a few seconds and nodded. "Pa should be okay fer the night. Ya might want t' let 'im have a nightcap 'fore he goes t' bed. A hot whiskey toddy'd do 'im fine, if ya want t' fix it for 'im."

As the couple strolled toward the exit door, Hannibal called after them, "Send Face out and I'll follow him back to the farm. You two have a good night."

"You, too, Hannibal," Dani answered. Murdock raised one hand in a dismissive sort of farewell.

The pilot held the door open for Dani and ushered her inside. Murdock hesitated in front of Winton's room. Memories of his stay, of the slow suffocation he induced with the potassium cyanide pill, froze him in place.

_I almost died. _

Dani placed one hand on his back and noticed the tension in his muscles. "The last time we were here, your father had shot you," she murmured. Rubbing his back where the muscles were tightest, she waited for him to decide when he was ready to go in.

_It ain' that I'm thinkin' 'bout. But she don' know 'bout the pill I took. _

He nodded and absently held her closer to his side. Drawing in a deep breath, he rapped on the door and cautiously opened it when he heard Face's greeting. As they entered the room, Face stood and stretched.

"It's about time you came to relieve me," the conman complained. "Hospital chairs aren't exactly the most comfortable places to nap." Yawning, he gazed at the man in the hospital bed and added, "And Sleeping Beauty there isn't exactly the greatest conversationalist in the world right now."

"Doc said he was respondin'." Murdock glanced at the patient. Flashing through his brain, the chilling memory of Winton's gun barrel pointed directly at his head made him flinch.

_'N' if Hollis hadn' jumped in front o' me . . . _

"Yeah, but no independent movement yet. Just twitching whenever he's touched." Face collected his suit jacket from the back of the chair. He frowned as the pilot stood staring at the man in the bed, his eyes distant. "So how did the performance go tonight?" He was relieved when Murdock startled and turned his gaze away from Winton.

"Huh?" The pilot seemed locked in whatever memory was playing through his mind.

Face repeated the question, glancing at Dani as he did. "The performance. How'd it go?"

"Mrs. B. tol' everyone the theater made 'nough through tonight's show t' pay off the mortgage." Remembering Cyndy's back stage melancholy, Murdock added, "Cyndy wasn' at the top o' her game tonight. I asked her why 'n' she tol' me but I don' think she tol' me all o' it. Maybe you can fin' out?"

_You'd better not o' hurt her. Be the devil t' pay if ya did. _

He set the bag he held on the overbed table and eased himself into the chair Face had vacated. Gingerly touching his upper left arm, he winced. "Colonel's waitin' with the van. Prob'ly wants t' make sure ya don' doze off on the way back t' the farm. Better skedaddle."

Face patted the pilot on his shoulder. "You look like you're in pain. Need me to pick something up for it?"

Murdock scowled. "A good stiff drink'd do the trick," he muttered, then shot a quick look at Dani.

_The only thing that'll touch any o' this pain 'n' she hadta make me promise not to. _

The V. A. nurse was already shaking three aspirin into the palm of her hand. She recapped the bottle and put it back in her purse before pouring some milk into a plastic glass. Offering the pills and the glass to Murdock, she waited with crossed arms until he swallowed the aspirin. "Remember your promise."

"How could I forget, darlin', when yer right there t' remind me every chance ya get?" he snapped. Looking up, he saw Face's surprise and Dani's hurt over his irritable response. Closing his eyes and rubbing them with one hand, he frowned. "I didn' mean that, Angel. I'm jus' tired."

The same voice in his mind sneered at him. _So much like yer Pa. When're ya gonna start beatin' on 'er?_

"Yeah, well," Face paused, glancing from Murdock to Dani and back again. "I guess I'd better not keep Hannibal much longer. Good night." He left without waiting for an answer.

The pilot grimaced as Dani took her seat beside him and clasped her hands in her lap. In silence, she stared out the window at the moonlit lawn for several seconds.

Dropping her gaze to her hands, she murmured, "Maybe we're _both_ just tired."

Taking a deep breath, he released it in a sigh. "Yeah, that's probably it."

The voice mocked him. _Liar! _ it laughed.

Forcing it to be quiet, he mumbled, "How 'bout some animal crackers 'n' milk? Always makes me feel better."

She scrutinized his weary face before leaning in and giving him a kiss. "I'd like that just fine."

oooooo

"Did you sense something going on with Murdock and Dani tonight, Hannibal?" Face relaxed on the couch, watching the Colonel spoon two teaspoons of honey into a cup of boiling water.

As he added the whiskey and some lemon juice and stirred the drink with a cinnamon stick, Hannibal thought. He remembered the dumbfounded look on the pilot's face when they found him backstage.

_More than likely something between Miss Berquon and our Captain. _

Rather than speculate, the Colonel chose to answer the question without that additional information. "No, not really. Why?"

"He seems on edge tonight. He snapped at Dani when she gave him his aspirin and he seemed to be uncomfortable sitting in the hospital with Winton." Face raised one eyebrow when Hannibal started toward the door with the cup. "If I'm not mistaken, you just made a hot toddy. I thought you weren't going to support McKeever's habit."

"Murdock thought his father would sleep better if he had this. I don't like playing nursemaid to an abusive drunk. If he hadn't asked me to do it, I would let McKeever rot down there until Monday morning when we head back to L. A."

"Murdock's in some pain tonight from that surgery. I haven't heard him mention wanting a drink for a long time." The Lieutenant drew a hand through his hair. "You don't think his father's influencing him that way, do you, Hannibal?"

The older man tightened his lips. Face was right to be concerned. The Lieutenant wasn't at the farm when the pilot had to be helped into the kitchen from serving his father supper and after dinner drinks. He couldn't have known.

Murdock was not harmless when he drank either. Quite a long time ago while they were still in Nam, the pilot told Hannibal in private that he had almost killed a Vietnamese villager while drunk. Murdock had not given details, only asked Hannibal to keep him from drinking to excess again. As much as he was able, the Colonel kept his word through the rest of the war and when they returned to the States, the V. A. hospital provided a sort of enforced sobriety.

Hannibal had not known about McKeever back then. He had assumed the stress of seeing one too many soldiers die in the back of his chopper caused the incident. Now he wondered.

"We'll have to keep that from happening, Lieutenant."

_But how?_


	127. Chapter 127 A Spot of Irish Coffee

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 127 A Spot of Irish Coffee

"Aw, ya don' hafta rush off, do ya, Dani? C'mon in for a while. Nobody else'll be up 'til eight or nine." Murdock gave Dani his most mournful look.

She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip as she gazed at him.

"I bet the couch ain' bein' used right now." He raised his eyebrows and winked at her. "It's comfortable. I should know. I slept on it for 'bout a week 'fore I went in the hospital."

Then she smiled and shut off the engine. "Okay. Cyndy isn't really expecting me back at her apartment for a while and I could use a fresh cup of coffee. That stuff at the hospital should be declared hazardous waste."

Murdock grinned. Quickly scrambling out of the VW passenger's seat he hurried around the front of the car to open her door.

"Your hand, milady?" he said in a cultured British accent. He took her offered hand and helped her out of the car. As he did, his gaze wandered to the root cellar door.

_Wonder if Pa's 'wake yet 'n' waitin' for me. Dani ain' gonna like me bringin' breakfast 'n' a mornin' refresher out t' Pa while she's here. _

He escorted the nurse to the veranda. Stopping with her on the porch and stuffing his hands in his pants pockets, he debated what he should do.

_Maybe I could fix all three o' us breakfast 'n' while she's eatin' I can bring Pa's food to 'im. Yeah, that's what I'll do. _

Dani rubbed his back with her hand. "Hey."

Reluctantly he shifted his focus and turned toward her.

"I'll help you make something for your father and go with you to deliver it. How about that?" She touched his cheek with her hand.

_How'd she know? Am I that obvious? _

Shaking his head, he muttered, "He might not eat while yer there. 'Sides, it wouldn' be safe for ya."

"And it's safe for you?" She narrowed her eyes and looked past him to the cellar door. "The last I heard, he was trying to kill you. That's about as unsafe as I can imagine."

"Pa 'n' me . . . we came t' an understandin'. He ain' gonna do anythin' t' me. But if I hafta try 'n' protect you when I go to see 'im . . . " Even to his own ears that excuse sounded lame.

_Why do I really wanna go see 'im? He won' hurt Dani 'n' I know it. Not with me there. _

"Then wait until Face or Hannibal wakes up and let them stand guard while you're in there. I don't trust him, H. M. None of us do." She stood so close he could see his reflection in her eyes. Startled, he pulled back and stumbled against the porch railing.

_When'd I get t' lookin' so much like Pa? Or was I seein' things jus' now? _

"What's wrong?" Her voice rose in alarm. She reached out to steady him.

"Nothin'. Nothin' at all, darlin'." He avoided her eyes, pulling her close and letting her rest her head against his chest. He could feel his heart hammering inside him with the image he had just seen.

_How much like Pa **am** I?_

He wasn't sure all of the therapy in the world would prevent him from falling into that rabbit hole. And once he was there, he wasn't certain he would have the strength to climb back out.

oooooo

By the time Hannibal came downstairs, Dani was lying on the couch curled up and sleeping beside Murdock. Resting on his back and holding her loosely, his right shoulder pillowed her head. A blanket partially covered their clothed bodies. Their shoes lay on the floor like they were kicked off as they headed for the couch. His bomber jacket had been carelessly tossed over the back of the armchair.

His eyes were open. Staring up at the embossed tin ceiling and gently stroking Dani's hair, he seemed deep in thought.

"Been awake long, Captain?" Hannibal greeted him in a low voice, not wanting to wake the nurse.

Murdock's eyes shifted toward the dining room door.

"Never went t' sleep. Dani made me wait 'fore I made Pa his breakfast. Now yer 'wake I can fix all o' us somethin'." Tilting his head toward Dani's, he kissed her forehead. "Rise 'n' shine, darlin'. Hann'bal's here."

The Colonel was already dumping old grounds into the waste can and making a new pot of coffee. He ignored the quiet murmur from behind him as Dani roused and sleepily snuggled closer to Murdock.

The pilot said something softly to her which elicited a small giggle. When Hannibal turned toward them, Murdock was in the process of tickling Dani's ribs. She squirmed and burst out laughing as he grinned down into her surprised eyes. Bringing her hands up to push away and avoid his prodding fingers, she almost fell off the couch.

"Whoa, darlin'! I gotcha," he said as he pulled her back toward himself. His grip tightened and he gazed at her, somberly drinking in every feature of her face before nuzzling and kissing her throat.

She whispered something in his ear that made him pull back. Hannibal turned away just as Murdock gave him an annoyed glance.

"He ain' lookin', darlin'," the pilot mumbled.

With a knowing smile, the Colonel strolled to the cabinet and got out plates and cups. "Never mind me."

As Dani stood, smoothing her hair and straightening her clothes, Murdock groaned a protest. The couch creaked and Hannibal sensed movement behind him before the pilot muttered almost in his ear, "Jus' sit down, Colonel. We got breakfast covered."

The older man drew back a kitchen chair and watched the pair as they worked together.

_No doubt about it. They seem meant for each other. _

Pouring some milk in a saucepan, the pilot glanced over his shoulder at Hannibal. "Gonna coddle a couple o' eggs fer Pa. S'pose you want yers sunny side up?"

"That would be fine." The Colonel's gaze fell on the three quarters empty whiskey bottle. He wanted to talk to Murdock about his father and the episode the previous night.

_But not with Miss Scalatini listening. He won't open up if she's here. _

Dani cooked the bacon in the frying pan while Murdock spooned coddled eggs with a few tablespoons of milk onto a buttered slice of bread on a plate. Setting a small carton of cream and four packets of sugar on the tray, he poured two cups of coffee. He tucked the bottle under his arm and moved toward the door with the tray.

Hannibal cleared his throat. When the pilot paused to glance at him, he gestured toward the bottle. "A morning pick-me-up, Captain?"

Murdock scrutinized him for a few seconds before answering. When he did, his tone was guarded. "Ain'tcha ever heard o' Irish coffee, Colonel?"

Dani had turned from the stove and stood with crossed arms, the spatula in one hand. "Do you really think he needs it, H. M.?"

A defensive look passed across the pilot's face as he gazed from Hannibal to Dani. "You don' know him like I do. He drinks from mornin' to the end o' day. Least he did when I lived here. Got no reason t' b'lieve he changed his ways."

He removed the padlock key from the countertop and moved toward the door again.

Dani pleaded, "Hannibal?"

The Colonel removed a cigar from his pocket and casually stood and strolled to the door. When Murdock glared at him he raised his hands. "Just a morning cigar. You _said_ I couldn't smoke in here. Or has that rule changed?"

The younger man offered no more protest. He scowled his answer, opened the door and walked out.

Hannibal gave Dani a grim nod as he closed the door after them and added, "Think your father would like one?"


	128. Chapter 128 Taking Care of Pa

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 128 Taking Care of Pa

"They're watchin' me pretty close, Pa. Don' know if I'm gonna be able t' pull it off Sunday night 'r not." Murdock straddled the chair in the root cellar, his arms folded along the chair top, waiting for McKeever to finish the coddled eggs and buttered bread.

"You've been good t' me, son. Better 'n I shoulda been treated. If it don' happen, it don' happen. Ain' like I'm gonna live fer even 'nother ten years anyway." He pushed aside the tray, only half of the food eaten.

_No wonder Pa's so thin. He ain' eatin' 'nough t' keep a hamster 'live._

The pilot rested his forehead on his folded arms and sighed. When he raised his head again, his eyes burned with desperation. "Can't ya eat more 'n that?"

"Ya did a good job with this. Don' get me wrong. I jus' know my limits. Eat much more . . . well, I tol' ya what happens. Sometimes happens anyways." He gave Murdock a feeble smile. "Sorry. I know yer tryin' yer damnedest."

_Why'd he hafta wait 'til now t' start treatin' me halfway decent? _

The pilot's vision blurred. "Ain' good 'nough," he muttered to himself and swiped the sleeve of his flannel shirt across his eyes. He took in a deep breath and stood.

"Gotta special treat for ya. Ever had Irish coffee?" Murdock carried the tray with its plate and coffee cups to the shelf where he set the whiskey bottle. "Ya take some strong coffee, the stronger the better." He lifted one of the cups to show his father. "See? Then ya add sugar. Should be brown sugar but we'll make do with this." Tearing the tops off two packets, he dumped the contents into one cup and stirred with a spoon. "Then ya pour in yer whiskey to taste . . . couple a shots good for you?"

McKeever nodded, sweat breaking out across his forehead.

With his attention on what he was doing, Murdock didn't see the nod. "You 'kay, Pa?" The pilot frowned as he turned to look at McKeever.

_Stupid question. He's not okay. I can see that. _

The older man shook his head and swallowed. His face had paled. As Murdock watched, he clutched his belly and hunched over.

"Gotta lay down. Bad burn in my guts."

Murdock stopped what he was doing and hurried toward the cot. "Here, let me help ya." He lifted his father's legs onto the canvas as McKeever let the upper half of his body sink back. "Yer gonna be okay, Pa. Jus' ride it out." Sitting on the edge of the cot, he grasped McKeever's hand in his own and tightened his grip.

_How many times did someone do this fer me when I was livin' on the streets? Least I can do fer Pa._

McKeever's face distorted with a spasm of pain and he gestured toward the head of the bed. Turning onto his side, he let his head dangle over the edge of the cot and vomited into the bucket Murdock held for him.

_Everythin' he ate 'n' then some. Don' know how much more he's gonna be able t' take. _

"That's a lotta blood, Pa," the younger man observed as McKeever collapsed onto his back again and closed his eyes. "How long'd you say you'd been doin' this?"

His father snorted. "Long 'nough t' know the doc was right. Nothin' can be done 'bout it. Medical bills'd bury me 'n' wouldn' guarantee a much longer life."

_He's right 'n' I know it. Least I got vet benefits comin' t' me. He's got nothin'. _

They sat in silence for a few minutes. McKeever's breathing returned to normal and color crept back into his face. Murdock thought his father had fallen asleep. He carefully moved to get to his feet.

McKeever opened his eyes to half slits and propped himself up on one elbow. "Help me up, 'kay?"

"Sure, Pa." Murdock braced his father's back with his arm and lifted him to a sitting position. He winced with the pain that shot through his injured arm. Standing up, Murdock turned away and gripped the bandaged area, shivering slightly.

_Not gonna let 'im see my pain. He's got too much o' it himself, he don' need t' see mine. _

"Yer hurtin'." McKeever said to the pilot's back.

The younger man shrugged, still facing away from his father. "This's nothin'. I've been through worse and lived."

"Why don'tcha make us both up some o' that Irish coffee? I think my belly's settled down 'gain 'n' it'd take the edge off yer pain." McKeever drew a hand across his mouth.

Murdock hesitated. "Hannibal's waitin' outside right now for me. My girl's inside the house. Made me promise not t' drink anythin'."

"Ain' that like womenfolk? They don' understan'." McKeever smirked. "The coffee smell'l cover up the whiskey. Ain' that the idea?"

The pilot's arm ached with the movement he had done onstage the previous night and from helping his father to sit up. His ribs were still hurting and he knew from previous experience that pain could last for up to six weeks or more.

_He's right. Makes the pain manageable. 'N' Dani won't know if I slip a shot o' whiskey in my coffee. I __jus' won' drink anymore 'n that. Jus' so Pa don' drink 'lone. _

"That's my boy." McKeever grinned encouragingly as Murdock opened two more sugar packets and dumped the contents into the other coffee cup.

oooooo

As soon as the curtain dropped on the final lines by King Henry IV alias Doctor Freedman, Murdock scrambled to his feet from his death pose on the stage and cast furtive glances for Cyndy. Swaying slightly with the lingering effects of the whiskey he had shared with his father over their supper, he waited until the stage stopped spinning before taking a step.

_Control's everythin'. 'N' even when I was on Skid Row I knew how t' pretend t' be sober. Least I never got 'rrested fer disorderly conduct anyways. _

She stood alone in the same dark corner of the backstage area like the night before. He was surprised to see her attention was focused on him. Even from that distance, he knew she had been crying.

_What'd I do now? _

The audience was once again applauding wildly and awaiting the players to appear in front to take their bows. Nodding absently at his fellow actors as they patted him on the back and congratulated him on his performance, he sidestepped small groups of crew and cast members until he stood directly in front of Cyndy.

Gesturing with his head toward the closed curtain, he reached for her hand. "It's almost time for our curtain call, milady." He bowed and kissed her hand in an exaggerated formal manner. As she shrank back from him, he frowned.

_Whatever I did, musta been somethin' big fer her t' act this way._

Cyndy hugged herself. "Something was different about you tonight, H. M. I don't know what it was but it made me uncomfortable. It was like you were someone else."

Puzzled, Murdock dropped his hand to his side. It felt like a lead weight on the end of his arm anyway. "I'm still the same ol' H. M."

_Don' know what she means 'bout different. How do I prove it to 'er? _

Giving her a mischievous grin, he moved closer and dipped his head down to kiss her. The old familiar memories flooded his mind and he snaked his arms around her waist to hold her tighter. Surprised, he realized her hands were up against his chest and pushing him away.

She was breathless as she stammered, "Wh . . . what about Dani?"

As he looked into her eyes, he scowled with frustration. "C'mon, Buttercup. I haven' changed. Jus' provin' it to ya. 'Sides, las' night ya seemed t' not think anythin' 'bout temptin' me."

"You're confusing me, H. M. Please, I said we could still be friends. Isn't that enough?" She pushed against his chest again and broke his hold on her.

Staggering back two steps, he sneered, "Talk 'bout confusin' someone, you take the cake, sweetheart." His accusing glare was too much for Cyndy.

Covering her face with both hands, she trembled.

He tried to control his temper as he watched her.

_She's been hustlin' me ever since I got back home. 'N' she's been hustlin' my best frien' at the same time. 'N' now she jus' wants t' be friends? _

He knew he wasn't thinking rationally. Shaking his head to clear his mind, he heard voices clamoring for attention instead.

Billy's voice whispered in his mind, "_Don't be like Pa. Cyndy don' mean ya no harm_. _She's not that way 'n' you know it._"

Another voice interrupted. _"Ain' that like womenfolk? Playin' ya, then dumpin' ya fer someone else." _

The second voice sounded so bitter, he wondered if the drinks he shared with his father were calling the shots with his emotions.

_I got it under control. But I ain' gonna be played with anymore. _

"Time for your curtain call, guys." Evan Dunlow interrupted, patting Murdock on the shoulder and casting a curious look at Cyndy as he passed.

"Hear that, Buttercup? Our audience wants t' see us." He gripped her elbow and forced her to look at him. Her eyes filled with fear and made him pause for a moment. Anger clouded his mind as he snapped, "One more performance 'n' then ya can wash yer hands o' me fer the res' o' yer life. That is, if that's what ya want. But fer now, let's preten', 'kay?"

Without waiting for an answer, he half-dragged her toward the side curtain and the applause waiting for them.

And the voice in his mind laughed. _See? Yer more like yer Pa than ya think._


	129. Chapter 129 Leave or Stay

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 129 Leave or Stay

It was Face's turn to sit in the audience with Dani and watch Saturday night's performance. B. A. stayed at the farmhouse and Hannibal took his turn with Winton at the hospital. Winton had brief moments of consciousness during the day and the Colonel wanted to be there when he came out of the coma completely.

Dani peered at Cyndy as Murdock escorted her onto the stage for their curtain call. "She's been crying, Face," she murmured to the Lieutenant as they stood and applauded.

"I noticed that. Murdock doesn't seem too happy either." Face looked at the pilot and then Cyndy, trying to determine what could have happened. He got an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach when he saw how distressed she seemed to be.

"Maybe between the two of us we can get one of them to tell us what's going on. I'll talk to H. M. and you talk to Cyndy and we'll compare notes later." Dani continued to applaud and smile but in her mind she began to frame the conversation she was going to have with Murdock.

_I think I know what happened but I sure hope I'm wrong. _

A half hour later, after Cyndy and Murdock changed into their street clothes, Face and Dani met them backstage.

"I think I'd like to get some coffee and dessert." Face grasped Cyndy around her waist. Even though the backstage was warm and Cyndy wore a light jacket over her long sleeved blouse, he noticed she was shivering.

"Are you cold?" the Lieutenant asked with concern.

She flashed Murdock a troubled look and shook her head. The Lieutenant gave Dani a puzzled frown as Cyndy wrapped both arms around his waist and huddled closer.

_She's acting like she's afraid, _Dani thought.

The pilot nonchalantly slung his arm over her shoulders and shoved his other hand into his pants pocket. His gaze was on Cyndy as he excused Dani and himself from joining them. "I'd better call it a night," he mumbled. He kissed the nurse on the top of her head. "That is, if ya don' mind drivin' me back home, darlin'. I wanna check, make sure Pa's alright 'fore I head t' bed. Don' know if B. A.'d think t' do that. 'N' then maybe we can sit out on the porch 'n' listen t' the crickets 'n' watch the fireflies."

Cyndy seemed to relax as the V. A. nurse nodded and stifled a fake yawn.

_H. M. isn't the only one who can pretend there's nothing wrong. Cyndy doesn't want to be anywhere near him right now. I can see that. _

"I'm pretty tired, too, after spending Friday night at the hospital with H. M. Maybe we can catch coffee and dessert with you two sometime tomorrow?" Dani watched the other woman's face as Cyndy flashed a grateful and relieved smile her way.

_Something's definitely wrong. _

Worry over what that could be gripped her mind and she barely heard Murdock's parting words.

"Tomorrow's the closin' night party anyway 'n' ya know there'll be plenty o' refreshments then." He took Dani by the elbow and guided her toward the door before anyone could say another word.

Face and Cyndy left in his Corvette while Dani brought Murdock back to the farm in her VW. Her mouth was set in a firm line as she glanced over at the pilot.

He curled up in the seat, his knees resting against the dashboard, his arms folded over his chest. Shortly after getting into the car, he had drawn the brim of his cap down over his eyes to avoid an argument with Dani.

He looked like he was asleep but the V. A. nurse wasn't fooled.

"Comfortable, H. M.?" Her icy tone betrayed her disapproval at what she suspected he had done.

The corners of his mouth twitched downward as he swallowed. "I _was_."

"Cyndy didn't look happy tonight." Dani stared straight ahead at the road. Her statement sounded more like a question.

"She say anythin' t' you 'bout it?" His question had a hint of apprehension in it.

"Did she have something she might have wanted to say?" Dani countered.

"That's not fair answerin' a question with a question, darlin'." Murdock took his cap off and smoothed back his hair before putting it back on. Sitting up straight in the seat, he turned his head away from her and stared out the side window.

"She didn't look comfortable when she was on stage." She wanted to add the words "with you" but sensed he was on edge enough without forcing a confession from him.

He shrugged and remained silent.

She tried a different approach. "Do you want me to stay a while tonight and help you with your father?"

He squinted at her. "Don' really need help with Pa. I'll fix 'im a hot toddy 'gain t'night 'n' he'll be fine 'til mornin'." As he spoke he drummed his fingers on the armrest. "Only other thing I'll need t' do is empty the bucket in the cellar."

"I could empty the bucket for you. It'd be less for you to do."

"Aw, ya wouldn' wanna do that, Angel. He's been pukin' up a lot. Musta come down with somethin' pretty bad. Pretty nasty stuff." His words were quick and insistent, his voice slightly hoarse.

_He's hiding something. _

"H. M." She glanced over at him as she made the turn onto Grayburg Road. "I'm a nurse. Remember? I've emptied plenty of bedpans with all sorts of nasty stuff in them. Besides, if he's as sick as you say he is, I'll be safe sitting with the two of you. He's too sick to hurt me, right?"

His eyes took on a wary glint as he stared at her profile. "What happened t' bein' tired?"

"What happened to watching the fireflies and listening to the crickets?" She gripped the steering wheel tighter. Pulling into the driveway, she parked beside the veranda but hesitated with her hand on the ignition key. "Your choice, H. M. Do you want me to stay or not? Will you accept my help or not?"

_Please, H. M. Don't make me leave. I love you too much to see you turn me away. _

He closed his eyes and laid his head back on the seat. "Don' do this t' me, Angel."

"Exactly_ what _am I doing?" She let the engine run and waited for an answer. Resting her head against the back of the seat, she closed her eyes like him and sighed.

"You wanna know what yer doin'? Yer paintin' me inta a corner. My Pa needs me," he rasped. "'N' all yer doin's tryin' t' keep me from 'im."

_Because he's doing something to change you and I don't know how to keep it from happening. _

"So do I leave or do I stay, H. M.?" She caught her lower lip between her teeth, wanting to reach out and grasp his hand but waiting for him to choose.

He hesitated, his face creased with the tension of his decision. Opening the car door, he slowly climbed out. He stared down at his feet and crammed his hands into his pockets.

"N . . . not t'night, darlin'. Please understand." His voice cracked.

"I 'll be heading back to L. A. in the morning, H. M. I won't force you to make any decision between your father and me." He could see the tears sparkling in the corners of her eyes and knew he had hurt her. Without another word she jammed the gears into reverse and backed the VW out of the driveway. He watched until the car disappeared from his view, then trudged to the porch to sit and watch the fireflies alone.


	130. Chapter 130 On a Lonely Dark Road

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 130 On a Lonely Dark Road

As Dani drove along Grayburg Road, the tears she had held back while she pleaded with Murdock coursed down her cheeks, smearing her mascara. The ribbon of gray, yellow and white in the beam of her headlights blurred. She was barely aware of the dark shadows of trees on either side of the road.

_He called my bluff. I can't believe he did that. Why, H. M.? Why? _

At the same time, she cursed herself for making such a final declaration. What had she said? "'I 'll be heading back to L. A. in the morning, H. M. I won't force you to make any decision between your father and me.'"

_I can't leave him here. I don't know what condition they'll return him in. But I can't bear to stay and watch him deteriorate into the condition he was in when he first came to the hospital. _

He looked so tormented when she forced him to make the decision between letting her stay or asking her to leave. He watched her as she left and she thought she saw regret and sorrow in his expression. At the time she was too upset to do anything but get out of there as quickly as she could.

With difficulty, she focused on the road, and at the speed she was going, she knew she shouldn't be driving in her present emotional state.

_I should pull over for a few minutes before I have an accident. But it's quiet out here and when I get to Cyndy's apartment I'll . . . _

Seconds later, a dark shape emerged from the tree line on her right, darting straight for the road in front of her. Sucking in her breath, her eyes widening, she froze at the wheel.

Moments later the front end of the VW tore into the headlight-blinded doe as it hesitated in the lane. At the same time the nurse's foot hit the brakes, there was a shuddering thud and the bloodied deer tumbled up onto the hood. The impact forced Dani up over the steering wheel. Her head smashed into the windshield moments before the carcass shattered the glass and sprayed it across the front seats.

Silly thoughts went through her mind.

_What just happened . . . Am I still alive . . . H. M., where are you . . . oh God, my car . . . Guess I'm not going anywhere tomorrow . . ._

She lay her head back on the driver's headrest, aware she was bleeding but too frightened to look at her reflection to see how badly she was hurt.

_How long before someone finds me? _

Blood dripped from her forehead and trickled down her cheeks. Her breath came in short shallow gasps. Shivering, she closed her eyes and felt herself drift away into darkness.

oooooo

He traced the path of a firefly with his eyes, his mind in shock over what had just happened. The bottle he had hidden behind a loose board in the veranda sat beside him. He had taken one swallow, letting the burn match the internal pain that consumed him. After another gulp, he set it down.

_She's goin' back tomorrow. How hard would it o' been t' let her see Pa 'n' not drink with 'im t'night? _

That was the problem. He had forgotten how mind-numbing, how pain-relieving, how imprisoning, alcohol had been to him at one time. After the last mission with the CIA, the one that had gone so totally wrong, the one that had sent him back to the States a shell of what he had been . . .

_I started killin' myself, li'l by li'l, drink by drink. _

That was before Face tracked him down. All the conman told him later was that he had found Murdock by chance late one night in a Skid Row alley, using a baseball bat against a mugger. The fight was over by the time Face located him. The Lieutenant had to wrest the bat from his hands to prevent him from killing the other man. Face whisked Murdock away, cleaned him up as best he could and called in a report to the police letting them know where to find the mugger. The would-be thief went to the local hospital in a coma and Murdock checked into the V. A. hospital for detox and a mental health evaluation. No charges were ever filed.

_The rest's history, like they always say. I'd sworn not t' let it take over 'gain. Hospital was good at keepin' me dry 'n' tryin' t' take 'way the pain. _

Thinking about that brought out a sardonic laugh.

_All the therapy in the world ain' gonna take 'way that kinda pain. _

Murdock squeezed his eyes shut against the nightmarish memories that bombarded him.

_But bein' with Dani was startin' t' do somethin'. I wasn' hurtin' so bad. 'N' now I've blown it with 'er. _

Warm drops trickled from his eyes down his cheeks and he absently swiped them away with the sleeve of his bomber jacket. He didn't hear the door behind him open and shut.

"Why you sittin' out here alone, fool?"

_Fool. Yeah, I deserve that fer what I jus' did. _

He drew in a deep steadying breath. When he was able to speak, his voice was raw and choked.

"I jus' did the stupidest thing I ever did." He paused for another breath. "Ya gotta help me fin' Dani, Big Guy."

"What about your Pa?" B. A. frowned, uncertain about leaving the janitor alone at the farm.

"He's locked up, ain' he? He ain' gonna get out, is he?" Murdock snarled, standing up suddenly and knocking the porch chair over as he did. He glared at B. A. and took the four steps toward him to stand face to face.

"You been drinkin' again?" Even before Murdock answered, the Sergeant smelled it on his breath and saw it in his wild-eyed expression. Wrinkling his nose, he muttered with disgust, "Yeah, you have."

_This's no time fer checkin' if I'm sober. _

He gave the black man one more angry look and felt himself wobble slightly on his feet. "If you won' help me, I'll go fin' her myself." He half-turned toward the steps and stopped only when B. A. grabbed his shoulder in a vise-like grip.

"What're you gonna do? Walk?"

_Hadn' thought 'bout that. _

Murdock wrenched his shoulder from the other man's grasp. His gaze fell on the white Bronco near the barn. B. A. had parked it there after confining McKeever in the root cellar. The pilot knew where the Sergeant put the keys.

_But there's no gettin' past the Big Guy t' get 'em. _

He groaned internally. "Maybe I'll use Pa's truck. Hotwire it if I gotta."

"You ain't in _any_ shape to be driving, fool."

_She'll be halfway packed 'n' on 'er way t' L. A. 'fore he decides I'm serious 'bout this. _

"Then I _will _walk. Made a mistake 'n' I gotta go take care o' it 'fore I lose 'er." He was having a difficult time keeping his panic under control.

His heart pounded inside him as a voice in his mind taunted, _Ya lost 'er 'n' ya ain' ever gonna get 'er back now. _He wanted to scream "Shut up!" but he knew B. A. didn't hear the voice and wouldn't understand.

_Now's the time to be sober 'n' sound. Prove t' 'im I'm not imaginin' anythin'. _

"Don'tya wanna check on your Pa and get to bed?" The Sergeant scrutinized the pilot's anguished face for a few seconds before mumbling, "Just let me get the keys to the van."


	131. Chapter 131 Roadside Assistance

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 131 Roadside Assistance

As Face traveled along Texas 326 toward Grayburg Road, he white-knuckled the steering wheel. It took some time but he finally persuaded Cyndy to tell him what Murdock had done backstage. He glanced over to where Cyndy huddled close to the passenger's side door, her swollen red-rimmed eyes staring vacantly into the night.

_He crossed over the line this time. _

"Don't worry, Angel. I'm not going to hurt him. I just want to talk to him." He tried to make his tone reassuring but he knew he was lying. At the moment the last thing he wanted to do to H. M. Murdock was to have a friendly conversation with him.

_I can't, I **won't** let this go. He's going to promise to stay away from her or else. _

"I don't know what got into him. You didn't see him on the path when he pulled the gun on us. He was talking about someone called Henderson and some company and didn't seem to know any of us. It was like it wasn't him at all. And then tonight, after I said I wanted to stay friends with him . . . " She wrapped her arms around herself and trembled.

"He'd better have a good explanation. That's all I can say." Face focused on the road, his guts wrenching over his friend's betrayal and Cyndy's frightened demeanor.

Hannibal hadn't said much about the events from the time Face left him at the hay shed to when they were all caught up in battling the barn fire. He heard only fragments of what had happened from Cyndy and Dani. Hannibal had been noticeably tightlipped about it.

From a distance, he spotted the motionless headlights of a small car in the middle of Grayburg Road.

Gesturing with his head, he drew Cyndy's attention to it. "Looks like someone's having car trouble."

As they approached, Face slowed down.

The deer's body on the hood, still bleeding and warm, steamed in the Corvette's high beams.

"That's Dani's car!" Cyndy gasped.

The Lieutenant swung the car onto the shoulder and parked a short distance away. "Stay here while I check it out."

_It's Dani's car alright but what am I going to find when I look in the front seat? _

He tried to steel himself for the worst while running toward the wreckage. His heart hammered in his chest with every step he took. He heard footsteps behind him and knew Cyndy was following, as desperate as he was to see if Dani and Murdock were still in the car.

"Dani?" The Lieutenant saw her before Cyndy did. Her eyes closed, blood covered her face like a crimson mask. He wrestled the door open and felt for a pulse.

"Temp?" Cyndy hovered just behind him, her voice choked. "Is she . . . ?"

"Alive." He attempted to rouse her only to get a few mumbled unintelligible words before she drifted off again.

"She must've dropped H. M. off and left right away." The other woman stared in shock at the shattered windshield and the blood that seemed to be spattered everywhere.

_I need to find something useful for her to do. She shouldn't have to see this. _

Face turned to her. Gripping her shoulders, he gazed into her eyes. "Listen, Angel. We're going to need help here. I left the keys in the ignition. Go get B. A. Tell him it's an emergency."

Trembling, she looked past him to the nurse's unconscious body and nodded twice before running to the Corvette.

"Hurry!" he yelled as he leaned across Dani and shut off the VW's engine. The nurse's eyelids opened to half slits. Sinking back onto his knees on the pavement, he took Dani's hand in his own.

_Good. If I can keep her responding to me, she'll be alright. _

"Murdock wasn't with you, was he?" The Lieutenant kept his eyes on hers and stroked back her hair. He knew touch as well as questions would keep her focused.

Swallowing back a sob, she shook her head and whimpered. Face sighed in relief.

_At least we won't have to scour the countryside looking for an injured dazed passenger wandering around. _

As he examined her more carefully, he noted pieces of glass imbedded in the gash in the nurse's forehead. Pressing down on the wound to stop the bleeding would also press the glass deeper into the skin.

_She needs more help than I'm able to give her. _

He prayed Cyndy would get B. A. there before Dani bled much more.

oooooo

"Ya don' need t' lecture me 'bout it, B. A." Murdock stared out the passenger's side window as the Sergeant left the driveway and turned left onto Grayburg Road. He picked at the scabs on his glass-torn fingers, welcoming the pain it created.

_That's nothin' compared t' what I feel inside right now. Prob'ly deserve it for drivin' Dani 'way like I did. For what I did t' make Cyndy scared o' me, too. _

"Didn't say nothin', fool." He kept his eyes on the ribbon of road ahead. As he drove, he heard the pilot shift in the seat usually occupied by Hannibal.

"But ya were gonna, weren't ya?" He flashed a quick wary glance at the big man beside him before dropping his gaze to his bleeding fingers. In the dim glow from the instrument panel on the dashboard, he saw several droplets of blood fall onto his pants. The fingers should have had stitches in them but the more immediate concern had been the gash he made across his wrist.

_Scabs, stitches . . . don' matter. If I lose Dani . . . _

B. A. glanced at him and growled, "You smell like a distillery, man. That what you expect me to say?" When the pilot didn't answer, he added, "Said we'd help you with your Pa but you won't take it." More silence.

The Sergeant sensed the increasing agitation in the man beside him and spotted the blood beading on Murdock's fingers and dripping onto his clothes. "Hurtin' yourself ain't gonna get her back an' you know it."

When the pilot's only response was a sniff, he softened his tone. "Just 'cause he's a mean drunk don' mean you are, too. You a fool but you ain' that bigga fool. You kicked it once an' stayed away from it. Do it again. For Dani. For all of us."

"You got no idea what's goin' on, B. A." Murdock narrowed his eyes at the shadows of trees beside the road and made his hands into tight fists. Curling his left hand made his fingers throb and burn. The pain cut through the effects of the alcohol he had drunk before B. A. confronted him on the veranda.

_I need t' be sober 'fore I talk t' Dani, tell 'er I'm sorry, ask 'er t' stay. _

The voice mocked him again. _Ya sure ya wanna do that, boy? Nothin', not even a woman, takes 'way the pain o' memory like a fifth o' whiskey. _

He clenched his fists tighter and muttered, "Shut up!"

"You tellin' me to do what?" the big man beside him growled.

Murdock shot an anxious glance at the Sergeant. "Didn' say nothin'."

B. A. flashed him a menacing look which mellowed only slightly when he added, "Honest." He raised his right hand, thumb and little finger bent and touching, the three other fingers straight. "Scout's honor."

When the Sergeant accepted the response with a grunt, the pilot took several deep breaths and closed his eyes to will the taunting voice to remain silent.

oooooo

The Corvette's engine roared to life seconds before a pair of headlights illuminated the accident scene from the opposite direction. Face shielded his eyes from the glare with a raised arm. He continued to hold Dani's hand in his, hoping she would stay with him until whoever this was came to check what had happened.

"Leave me before they get you." Dani struggled to open her eyes wider. Her hand tightened slightly around the Lieutenant's fingers before losing strength. He looked down at her as she let her eyelids close.

"I'm not leaving you. Don't go back to sleep. Help is coming." He patted her cheek but got no more of a response than a soft sob and a tightening around her closed eyes as tears mingled with the blood on her cheeks.

The Corvette's engine stopped as the approaching vehicle swerved to the shoulder. Before it was fully parked and the engine shut off, the passenger's side door opened and slammed shut. Someone sprinted toward the accident scene. A second figure left the vehicle as Cyndy bolted from the Corvette and hurried toward them.

"It's alright, Dani," Face whispered. "Help is here."

oooooo

The Sergeant slowed the van to a crawl. "Somethin's happened up ahead. Looks like an accident."

Murdock turned his gaze on the two vehicles stopped on opposite sides of the road. He squinted to see more clearly. When he recognized the blue VW, the California license plate and the figure kneeling beside the open door, he drew in a sharp breath.

"Pull over, B. A." he managed to choke out.

Almost before the van stopped moving, Murdock threw open the door and slammed it behind him. He ignored B. A.'s surprised cry of "Hey, fool!" Cutting in front of the headlights, he rushed toward the accident scene, his stomach knotting at what he would find when he got there.

_Oh God, please let her be alive! _


	132. Chapter 132 Transport

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 132 Transport

"Dani!" The strained familiar voice made the Lieutenant kneeling beside the injured accident victim temporarily curl his hands into fists.

Face kept his gaze trained on the woman's closed eyes and refused to look up. He clenched his teeth against Murdock's panicked yell.

_Try to forget your anger for now. Dani needs at least one calm person taking care of her. But if he makes one wrong move . . . _

The Lieutenant reached up to pat her cheek and rouse her again. "Come on, sweetie. Open those big beautiful blue eyes for me." Her eyelids fluttered and closed again. Her lips moved but there was no sound.

He felt a hand on his arm trying to push him out of the way.

"Dani. I'm here, darlin'. I'm here." The hoarse voice came from right behind him. "Get outta the way, Faceman. Let me see 'er!"

"I've got it covered," Face snapped over his shoulder at the pilot. He sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose. "Go wait in the van and let me handle it. You're drunk."

_Don't push it, buddy. I'm not in the mood. _

Even as he said the words and thought that, part of him remembered the Murdock from the Skid Row alley, the delusional drunken pilot wielding a baseball bat against a seriously injured attacker. Then the memory was gone, replaced by the anger over what his friend had done to make Cyndy afraid to share the stage with him.

Murdock gripped both of the Lieutenant's shoulders and wrenched him sideways. "No . . . I'm . . . not!" he growled as he grappled with Face to get him out of his way.

Shaking the pilot's hold, the conman turned as he stood and swung wildly with his fist.

He caught Murdock squarely with a right hook and sent him sprawling onto his back on the pavement. The pilot lay there, stunned for a few seconds, before putting his hand up to his jaw where the blow had landed. A puzzled frown appeared on his face as he stared at his best friend.

His chest heaved with his breathing and he staggered to his feet. Wild-eyed and confused, Murdock swayed for another second before gaining his balance. "Whaddya do that for?"

_What did I do that for? He has the guts to ask me that after what he did to my girl? _

Even though Face knew he was acting irrationally he was wound too tightly with what Cyndy had confessed and the emergency condition Dani was in to restrain himself."That was for Cyndy," he spat.

Jabbing his finger in the air at Murdock, Face let out his jealous rage. "If I _ever _hear that you touched her in a way that scares her, I'll knock you down again. Next time, you might not get up so easily." Cyndy ran to him and the conman wrapped his arms around her. "You understand that?"

"You said all you were going to do was talk to him." She huddled in his embrace and cast a guilty look at the dazed pilot.

"I did," Face muttered, glaring at his friend.

Murdock rubbed his jaw with one hand and nodded slowly. "I understand," he mumbled. He looked from the pavement into Cyndy's eyes with such tormented bewilderment and misery she wondered if he remembered at all what he had done to make her frightened.

His gaze wandered from Face and Cyndy to the injured nurse in the driver's seat. Stumbling forward past the Lieutenant, he crumpled to his knees beside her. His hand shook as he reached up to wipe away the blood on her face.

"No, no, no." His words came out in a desperate rushing murmur. He desperately searched her face for a reaction. "Dani, ya can' leave me. Don' leave me." His voice broke before he could say more.

She whimpered and blindly reached for him. Gripping her hand tightly in his, Murdock didn't realize B. A. had come up behind him until the Sergeant touched him on the arm and startled him.

"I got the van in closer so we can transfer her over." B. A.'s tone was amazingly soft. "We gotta find out how bad she is, if she hurts anywhere else besides her head before we move her."

Murdock nodded, his mind numb. He shifted to the side without letting go of her hand so B. A. had room to talk to the nurse and assess her condition.

"Li'l momma? We gotta know where you're hurtin' so we don't hurtya more. Can you feel your legs?" B. A. watched Dani's face for a response. For a second, the only answer was a grimace.

Then she nodded. After a few more questions, B. A. decided it was safe to transfer her to the van for the trip to the emergency room.

Murdock ran to the other side of the VW and grabbed Dani's purse and tote bag from the passenger's seat before returning to the driver's side. Carefully B. A. slipped one arm under her upper legs and the other under her arm and around her back. Slowly edging her out of the seat, he stopped when a groan escaped her lips. Murdock gripped the Sergeant's arm when he heard it and moved in closer.

Biting her lower lip, she opened her eyelids halfway. "Just get me to the van, B. A.," she hissed. She glanced at Murdock's pallid distressed face and attempted a smile. "It only hurts when I laugh."

Despite his worry for her, Murdock gave her a shaky lopsided grin. "That's my girl. Ya sure ya ain' more hurt th'n what yer tellin' us, darlin'?" He stroked her cheek with his fingertips. His brown eyes anxiously scrutinized her expression looking for any sign she was lying.

A reddish-tinged tear trickled down the side of her face as she gazed at him. "Should I prove it and walk to the van?"

He frowned and shook his head. "No, 'course not, Angel."

She tried to smile again. It turned into a wince when B. A. adjusted her weight in his arms. She gasped, "Just stay with me, H. M. Let B. A. do what he has to."

On the Sergeant's second attempt to lift her from the VW, the nurse sucked in a sharp breath and clutched the big man's neck with both arms.

"Dani?" Murdock had panic in his voice as he shadowed the Sergeant's footsteps to the waiting vehicle.

B.A. gave Face a scowling acknowledgment when he passed bearing the injured nurse. "Don't know what's goin' on between you an' the fool here, Faceman, but now ain't the time or the place to hash it out. Either follow me to the hospital or go on back to the farmhouse but don't get in another fist fight or I'll put both of you in traction. Li'l momma here don't need that right now."

The Lieutenant glared at Murdock but the pilot's attention was on Dani. Taking Cyndy by the elbow, Face escorted her to the Corvette, helped her in and started the engine.

B. A. growled as the Corvette slowly moved past the van and on toward the farmhouse.

"Never mind Face, Big Guy. He'll get over it, whatever it is. Dani needs a doctor," Murdock ran ahead of the Sergeant and opened the rear side door.

"Here, let me get in first. I'll hold 'er steady 'n' keep talkin' to 'er on the way." Tossing the purse and tote bag into the back, he sat on the floor of the van, legs bent in front of him and arms outstretched. After B. A. eased Dani into Murdock's arms, he slid with her until his back was against the interior panel of the van. Cradling the injured nurse close to his chest, Murdock let her head rest on his shoulder. He bent and kissed her hair. "I've gotcha, darlin'."

Glancing up at the Sergeant with gratitude in his eyes, he rasped, "Thanks, B. A. Thanks fer everythin'."

As B. A. climbed into the driver's seat, he could hear Murdock softly telling Dani, "Yer gonna be alright, darlin'. 'N' when yer restin' up, I'll stay by yer side 'n' never leave ya 'lone 'gain, mission 'r no mission, Pa 'r no Pa."

Her whimpered answer wrenched the big man's gut and he pressed down on the accelerator in response.

As the van turned onto Texas 326, the Sergeant shot back over his shoulder, "Just keep her awake an' alive an' I'll get us to the hospital soon as I can."


	133. Chapter 133 What Kind of Fool

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 133 What Kind of Fool

_"See," he said, "the arrow struck against this. It is the kiss I gave her. It has saved her life." _

_"I remember kisses," Slightly interposed quickly, "let me see it. Ay, that's a kiss." _

_Peter did not hear him. He was begging Wendy to get better quickly, so that he could show her the mermaids._

As Hannibal neared the room in which Dani was resting, he heard Murdock reading aloud a passage from _Peter Pan_. The pilot's voice choked with emotion at the last sentence.

The Colonel rapped with his knuckles on the door and opened it without waiting for a response.

Murdock closed the book and set it on the overbed table. He picked up a towel-wrapped bag and held it to his jaw. Casting his gaze toward the floor, he shook his head and said in a low voice, "Ya know, I almost lost 'er t'night, Hannibal." Raising his eyes to scan the older man's questioning face, he clarified. "Not like ya think. Not jus' in the accident. I sent 'er 'way so I could be with Pa." He rubbed careworn eyes with the palm of one hand before adding, "If I'da asked 'er t' stay, she wouldn' be like this."

"B. A. said something about that." Hannibal gestured toward the other chair in the room. "Mind if I sit with you and Miss Scalatini for a while?"

Murdock shrugged. His shoulders slumped as he cast his gaze toward the hospital bed. "I was damned lucky she wasn' thrown from the car 'n' ended up on the road, hittin' the windshield like she did."

Setting the ice pack on the table, he stood and absently adjusted the blanket over Dani. He reached to stroke her hair but except for a soft sigh, she didn't respond. He brought his own chair closer to the bed and sat, continuing to watch her as she slept. The muscles in his face and hands twitched as he contemplated the impact of his actions.

Hannibal's eyes narrowed at the sight of Murdock's swollen bruised lower jaw. "B. A. suggested you were doing more than visiting with your father tonight. Want to talk about it?"

The pilot sniffed. "Ain' much t' say. I never got t' the cellar t' visit Pa. Sat out on the porch thinkin' 'bout what kinda fool I really am."

"And what kind of fool _is_ that, Captain?" Hannibal scrutinized the younger man's sorrowful expression and waited.

Murdock cast a remorseful glance his way before looking down and picking at the bandage around his right wrist. "How do I begin t' answer that, Colonel?"

oooooo

"I was hoping I was wrong." Face held up the half empty whiskey bottle from beside the porch seat and showed it to Cyndy.

"Could it have been B. A.?" she asked, her gaze wandering from the bottle in his hand to his grim expression.

A bitter laugh escaped from the Lieutenant's mouth as he glanced at her. "B. A.'s only addiction to liquid refreshment is to milk. He's a teetotaller. Doesn't touch the hard stuff." He raised the bottle in the dim moonlight to look at its contents. "No, this belongs to Murdock."

"Lots of people drink once in a while, Temp." She searched his eyes. "Even I have a rum and Coke if I'm out with a group of friends."

"It's not the same thing for him. It's not just the cocktail of antidepressant and antipsychotic meds he takes. That's _enough_ in itself to make this unsafe for him." Face paused.

She stared at him, her concern and confusion evident in the frown puckering her brow. "He's not a cookie cutter image of his father either. That isn't the H. M. I remember. He _hated_ what he thought alcohol did to tear his mother and father apart. All through high school he stayed away from everything but an occasional cold beer on a hot day."

She blushed at the memory of sitting in the hay loft with him in their junior and senior high school years, sharing a six pack and his company. _But that was only once in a while_, she argued with herself.

Face gave her such a piercing haunted look she shivered despite the warmth of the evening.

"The war did some very unpleasant things to all of us, Cyndy." He paused to observe her reaction. "It hurt some of us much worse than others. I wasn't there when Murdock came back from Nam. He lived on Skid Row for a time after the war until I located his whereabouts." The memory of that night fully hit Face and he sank into one of the porch seats, still clutching the bottle. "He was . . . drunk and hurting . . . "

The bloodied baseball bat . . . the whimpers of the man lying in the alley . . . the wild-eyed crazed expression his friend displayed as he lifted the bat to strike at Face . . . recognition melting Murdock into a huddled, weeping mess clutching at the Lieutenant's legs as the pilot collapsed to the garbage-strewn asphalt of the alley . . .

Face looked up into her eyes and shook his head. "Please don't ask me to tell you any more than that. I shouldn't be the one to tell you and he probably doesn't remember. Let the past be the past."

She gazed down at him, saw the anguish in his expression and knelt in front of him. Carefully removing the bottle from his hand and setting it aside, she hugged him tightly.

After minutes had passed, he drew in a shaky breath. Gently massaging her back with one hand, he murmured into her ear. "You're going to have to let me up. I need to do something."

Moving to sit in the chair beside him, she frowned as he took the whiskey bottle in his hand and stood. He went into the farmhouse and returned with the padlock key to the root cellar. He had taken off his suit jacket and strapped on the shoulder holster with his Smith and Wesson secured in it. Unsnapping the strap holding the gun in place, he started down the veranda steps.

"I want you to lock the root cellar door after me, Cyndy." Face took her hand as she joined him and they walked through the weeds around the farmhouse.

"But . . . " She pulled back a little as they neared the cellar.

Interrupting the rest of her sentence with a kiss, Face paused to caress her cheek with his hand and then bent to unlock the padlock. He swung the door open and picked up the whiskey bottle from where he had set it. "Lock it and don't unlock it no matter what you hear. I'll knock on the door when I'm ready. I want to have a few words with Murdock's father."

She forced herself to be calm as he descended the steps into the dim oil lamp lit storage room. Tugging the door closed, she padlocked it and stood anxiously waiting and worrying for his safety.

oooooo

Winton's eyelids slowly opened to the sight of B. A. Baracus sitting in a chair staring at him.

The ex security guard rasped two words. "Where's Smith?"

With a threatening growl, the Sergeant picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"Hannibal? He's awake an' wantin' you." He paused as he listened. "Yeah, I'll tell 'im."

Hanging up the phone, B. A. retreated to the chair and sat down again, crossing his arms.

"Well? What'd Smith say?" Winton pressed the button on the bed to raise himself into a semi-sitting position.

The Sergeant's eyes glinted with menace as he answered. "He said, 'Take your turn.' He got more important things goin' on right now."

oooooo

As Hannibal hung up the phone, Murdock stared morosely at the floor at his feet. "Ya don' hafta stay 'n' listen t' me go on 'bout stuff I can't change."

"Listen, Captain." He waited until the pilot settled his gaze on him. "The four of us are a team. When one of us is hurting the team doesn't function as well. Until now I've let you tell me only as much as you wanted to tell me. It's time to be honest about everything."

Avoiding the Colonel's probing statement, Murdock turned his head to look at Dani. A shudder passed through his frame as he saw again the gauze bandages over the stitches in her forehead and under her blackened eye.

"I'll tell ya what I can but don' push me, Colonel. It's like a Pandora's box, some o' this stuff inside me. It comes out, there ain' no tellin' what's gonna happen." He turned his penetrating brown eyes on the older man and straightened in his chair. "Ya gotta trust me. There's some things better left buried."


	134. Chapter 134 Get To the Truth

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 134 Get To the Truth

"Didn' 'spect t' see nobody but my boy t' come down 'n' see me." McKeever remained seated on the army cot and eyed the Smith and Wesson in Face's shoulder holster. "'N' he usually don' bring a gun when he does."

_No, he doesn't. If Hannibal hadn't taken his gun away, there's no telling what Murdock would do with it right now. _

The smell of vomit, blood and urine mingled with the earthy odor of the cellar itself. It was enough to make Face nauseous but he kept his composure. Seeing the two glasses on the shelf, he filled one glass halfway with whiskey and offered it to the older man. McKeever nodded his thanks and took the glass, swallowing a third of the contents all at once.

"I understand you have a drink with each meal and one or more at night to help you sleep." The Lieutenant straddled the chair and rested his arms along its back. "Ever think of trying to get into some kind of alcohol treatment program?"

McKeever snorted. "You serious? After all these years?" He took another gulp and grimaced at the conman. "So why'd ya _really_ come down 'ere? I'm sure it wasn' t' ask 'bout my drinkin' habits 'r my health. 'N' where's my son?"

_Why __did __I come down here? What kind of answers am I looking for? _

Face forced a smile. "A few days ago, the last person Murdock wanted to see was you. Now suddenly he thinks he's the only one who can bring you your meals and whatever else you need. Why the change?"

"Where's my son?" McKeever frowned at the Lieutenant. "'Least he keeps good company when he's here."

"Meaning he drinks along with you."

The janitor scowled. "'Mong other things. Tells me war stories, doesn' ask so many questions."

_So that's part of it. I wonder if retelling those memories pushed him back to the bottle. _

Face narrowed his eyes at the janitor. "A few days ago, you were hellbent on killing Murdock. We know the reason why and you're going to pay for those murders. But you seem to have softened your position on wanting Murdock dead. Why?"

McKeever smiled and stared into his glass. When he spoke, his voice was soft and reflective. "If all he says's true, I shoulda been the proudest father'n all o' Texas. He turned out t' be quite a man."

"No thanks to you," Face snapped.

The janitor shrugged and tossed back the remainder of his drink. Swallowing, he held the glass out and raised his eyebrows. "Another?"

"Not until I get some answers. Murdock isn't supposed to be drinking on top of the meds he takes to control his paranoid anxiety disorder and depression. He _knows_ that. With all your new-found fatherly instincts for him, I thought _you_ should know that, too, so you can stop him." Face watched the janitor's eyes to see what reaction the statement would get.

_I'm pretty sure I know what the response to that is going to be._

"He's 'n adult. He can choose fer 'imself, can't he?" McKeever examined the glass in his hand to avoid Face's stare. "He made a promise t' me 'n' yer leader went 'gainst 'im. My boy wasn' too happy 'bout that. Boy's got a real sense o' honor. Maybe he's jus' makin' it up t' me but that says a lot 'bout 'is character."

_Something's not being said. _

The Lieutenant shook his head and walked over to the shelf where the bottle was. Pouring himself a smaller amount than he had given McKeever, he took a swallow. "There's something more going on here than that."

McKeever licked his lips as Face swirled the whiskey in the glass. "It's 'tween my boy 'n' me."

"Look. The rest of us would just as soon put you in front of a firing squad for the damage you did to him through the years. I'd volunteer to be one of the squad _and_ make sure I had more than one live round to do it." The Lieutenant put down the drink when he heard the older man's low bitter chuckle. "What's so funny?"

"Like I tol' _him_, I die now, I die later, don' matter much when. Quick 'n' painless'd be better 'n a slow 'n' painful death but guess I can't choose which I get." McKeever held out the glass again and focused his eyes on the younger man's puzzled face. "Please?"

"Not yet. What did you mean 'slow and painful'?" Face glanced at the bucket and then back at the janitor.

_He doesn't look well. I wonder . . . _

McKeever glanced at the gun holster. "Can I have a last request 'fore ya put a bullet 'n my head?"

"No. And I'm not going to shoot you. I want an answer. What did you mean by what you said? Why does Murdock feel so obligated to you?"

The older man frowned in disappointment. "Already said too much to ya. My boy knows 'n' that's all that matters." McKeever lay down and rolled over on his side facing away from the Lieutenant.

After a few seconds Face carefully poured the rest of his drink back into the bottle. "I guess that's your choice, McKeever. But I want you to listen to me. He's my best friend."

McKeever snorted and turned over to glare at the Lieutenant. "Knew that. He tol' me. Ya almos' finished, boy?"

Face took a deep breath to prevent his anger from surfacing any more than it had.

_I won't give this sorry excuse for a father anything to use against Murdock or me. _

"I'm not going to allow him to drink himself into a carbon copy of you. I'll kill you before I let you push him back into the bottle." Face clenched his fist at his side, matching the older man's glower.

"Do it, sonny. It'll be a blessin'. But then you can 'splain t' him why ya done it." McKeever's sneer was almost too much for the conman to take.

Without another word, the Lieutenant turned and ascended the steps. As he banged on the cellar door and Cyndy opened it, he heard McKeever's last retort. "T'morrow mornin' I wanna see my son, not any o' the rest o' ya. Got that?" It was followed by the sounds of violent retching, quickly muffled as Face closed the door and locked it.

oooooo

"Who is Henderson, Captain?" Hannibal kept his eyes on Murdock's face and observed the slight flinch.

_He's definitely part of a very painful memory. _

"That's one o' those evil spirits from Pandora's box ya don' wanna know 'bout, Colonel." The pilot stared at Dani's face but the older man could tell he was seeing something else in his mind.

"Okay. Let me tell you what I _do _know about him. Correct me if I'm wrong at any time." Hannibal wished the young lady in the hospital bed was awake. She would know better than he if the line of questioning was too sensitive or would cause more harm than good.

Murdock shifted uneasily in his seat and gripped the arms of the chair. He closed his eyes and swallowed.

"Henderson was your go-to man when you needed to know more information about missions you were asked to do for the Company. The CIA, I presume?"

_There it is. That twitch in his face. I struck a nerve. I just hope I'm not opening a box that should have stayed shut. _

"He must have been about equal to me as far as giving orders and having you follow through with them. Some of those orders involved killing people."

The younger man frowned. "I really don' wanna . . . " he muttered.

Hannibal interrupted. "But you didn't really trust Henderson completely either, did you? There was a mission where you knew too much and he might easily have let you be terminated. The Company suddenly didn't trust you with the information you already knew."

Murdock's breathing had become shallow and irregular. His eyes were not just closed; they were squeezed shut against whatever memory the questions were stirring.

_Get through it, son. Whatever it is, it's not your present reality. It's the past. You've got to let it go. _

"It terrified you. You were ready to do anything to avoid taking the fall for the mission that had gone wrong."

The pilot's shoulders hunched. He was shivering with the truth of Hannibal's words.

The nurse moved in the bed, the sheets rustling slightly. Her eyelids flickered open and she groaned.

"H. M.?" she whispered. But Murdock had retreated into the darkest part of the memory and could not hear her voice.


	135. Chapter 135 Lost and Found

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 135 Lost and Found

As soon as Face emerged from the bowels of the root cellar and closed and locked the door, Cyndy embraced him.

"You're safe," she murmured, her head on his chest. "I was going crazy, not knowing what was happening down there, knowing what he's capable of."

Face held her for a few moments until her trembling stopped. "Nothing happened. I gave him his nightcap and asked some questions. I think I got some answers but I had to read between the lines. It was more what he _didn't_ say than what he _did_."

"Will H. M. be alright when his father's put away?" Cyndy pulled back slightly, placing both hands on his chest and searching his eyes.

"I don't know. McKeever's influence is stronger than it should be." He shook his head. "I always thought I got a raw deal, growing up in an orphanage, never knowing my mother or father. I don't know anymore. Maybe _I_ was the lucky one."

He took her by the hand and led her to the veranda.

She hesitated on the first step and looked back at him. "Aren't you coming in?"

The Lieutenant glanced toward the cellar door and shook his head. "I need to talk to Hannibal about McKeever. If you want to sit with me in the Corvette while I make the call, I wouldn't mind the company."

"What are you going to tell him?" She shivered at the memory of being left by McKeever in the hay shed to slowly die of heat stroke.

Folding her arms across her waist, she followed him to the car and waited as he opened the passenger's side door for her.

"What about him, Temp?" she repeated as soon as they were both settled in the seats. Face picked up the mobile phone and punched in the numbers for the hospital.

While he waited for someone to answer, he explained. "I think McKeever's dying already and Murdock knows it. I think that's the reason he's taking care of his father so well, why he might have begun drinking again." He tapped his hand impatiently on the steering wheel as he spoke. "I mean, think about it. Even though McKeever has _never_ been the type of father Murdock needed, he _is_ still his father."

"So the old saying 'Blood is thicker than water' is what H. M. is going by?" Cyndy's expression softened as she thought about it. Face nodded.

"I hope they're still using the room Murdock was in . . . Hello . . . B. A.? Look, I have to talk to Hannibal. Is he there with you?" He listened for a few seconds. "Well, can't you ask him to call my mobile phone? . . . If I didn't think it was important . . . " He straightened in the seat and gave Cyndy a worried look. "Is there anything I can do? . . . McKeever's locked up. I could help him . . . " He let out a frustrated sigh. "Well, let me know . . . I'm going to drive into Beaumont and see if he didn't begin to head out here . . . Yeah, I know it's a long way to walk but he won't be thinking about the distance. Not if he's in that frame of mind. For all we know, he could be in a Beaumont bar or wandering the streets. Listen, we're wasting time . . . Call me if you find out anything . . .Thanks."

"What was that all about?" Cyndy scanned his worried expression. Face stared at the phone for a few moments before hanging up.

"Hannibal was asking Murdock some questions and he pressed a little too hard. Murdock's disappeared. Would you come with me and help me look for him?" When she nodded, he gave her a grim smile and started the engine.

Once on Grayburg Road, he headed south to the main highway. Passing the scene of Dani's accident, he remembered knocking Murdock to the pavement and the pilot's stunned expression after he did it.

_If I had known then what I know for certain now . . . I'd still be angry but I wouldn't have slugged him. He could be just about anywhere._

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and gritted his teeth at the memory.

Cyndy reached over and patted his arm. "We'll find him, Temp. He can't have gone very far. Besides, he knows his way around this area."

"But not if he thinks he's still in Nam." Both fell silent as they considered the implications of that.

oooooo

"How could you do such a thing, Hannibal? You _knew_ what kind of mental state he was in ever since he came back here." Dani was scolding the Colonel as she quickly pulled on her clothes behind the closed door of the bathroom.

"I needed answers to some of the mysteries he's been keeping from us. To operate as a team, our lives have to be free of major secrets. And I would say involvement with the CIA as an operative is a major secret, one that _could_ end up getting all four of us captured or killed." Hannibal felt his temper rising.

_I'm not angry with Miss Scalatini as much as I am at myself. How I could have let him get the drop on me . . ._

"And now he has my gun. You don't know if or how he's going to use it." Dani came out of the bathroom. Seeing the self-condemning expression on Hannibal's face, she touched him on the shoulder to get his attention. For a few seconds she stared into his steel blue eyes. "I'm scared, Hannibal. I'm scared for him and what he might do to himself if he believes what you told him." She tore her gaze away and looked down at the floor. "I shouldn't have blamed you."

Hannibal grimaced. "I have big shoulders."

"Blame won't find him. He might have had a psychotic episode despite the line of questioning you did. We don't know how he's going to react to his father being arrested either. That might be as traumatic as this." Dani reached up and kissed Hannibal on the cheek. "So let's focus on what we need to do right now."

"I still don't approve of you leaving that bed to go looking for him, Miss Scalatini. Doctor Freedman wanted to keep you in overnight for observation." Even as he said it, he watched her eyes flash with stubborn rebellion. An impatient sigh escaped her.

_So much like Murdock with that stubborn determination and self-sacrifice. _

"I think I would know if I had a concussion. I know the signs. If anyone is going to bring him back into the present from whatever nightmarish past he thinks he's reliving, don't you think I can?" She crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow at him. "Now are we going to look for him or not?"

Hannibal nodded and opened the hospital room door. Dani clutched her tote bag and purse as she followed him through the exit to the parking lot.

"Neither of us know Beaumont like he does. This might be like searching for a grain of sand in a bag of sugar." Dani chewed nervously on her lower lip as the Colonel escorted her by the elbow to the van.

"But if he thinks he's in Nam, he won't remember city landmarks either." He opened the passenger's side door for Dani and then hurried around the front to the driver's side.

Hannibal slowly searched the streets around the hospital in an ever-widening circle. As the van traveled west on Calder Avenue, Dani sat on the edge of her seat squinting into the darker shadows around the buildings they passed.

"We don't even know if he would have come this way, Hannibal. And it's night. It's hard to see anything."

He heard fear in her voice.

"Would you rather wait until morning?" He knew the answer to that question.

_She won't quit but she's getting discouraged. I just have to remind her why we have to keep looking. _

"No, dammit!" She glared at him defiantly. "When my brother had his men drag me against my will out to Vegas, H. M. followed. He didn't give up on me and I'm not going to give up on him either." She shot Hannibal another angry glance and saw the amusement in his eyes. She gave him a weak smile. "Okay, you made your point. Neither of us will give up as long as we know he's somewhere out here."

They drove on in silence for a few more minutes. Just as they were about to cross under the I-10 overpass, Dani saw a hunched figure sitting high up on the sloped concrete under the bridge. When he saw the van slow down, the vagrant gripped his bomber jacket tighter around himself and tipped his cap down over his eyes.

"There he is!" she gasped.

"Get on the mobile phone. Tell Face we're going to need some help." Hannibal parked a half block from the overpass. The nurse either didn't hear him or she chose to ignore his order.

Twisted in her seat, the window down, her gaze was on the man they had passed. Before he shut off the engine, Dani left the van and was hurrying toward Murdock.


	136. Chapter 136 Deadly Distractions

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 136 Deadly Distractions

Hannibal speed-dialed the mobile phone in the Corvette. Staring in the passenger's side door mirror, he kept the nurse and the slouching shadowy figure perched near the top of the overpass in his sight. One wrong move by either person would be enough to propel him from the van into action.

"Come on, Face. Pick it up," he growled after the second ring.

_Where are you, Lieutenant? _

oooooo

Dani jogged toward the dark underside of the bridge. She knew Hannibal would keep a watch on her to make sure nothing happened. Before she entered the shadows, she slowed to a walk so as not to alarm the pilot. Until she could assess what mental state he was in, she would be very cautious with her actions and words.

"H. M.?" Standing on the sidewalk at the base of the sloping bridge abutment, she peered at the huddled figure at the top. She swallowed hard, wanting to approach but knowing it might trigger a deadly reaction.

His arms were wrapped around his legs. Head lowered over bent knees, his cap hid his face from her view. In his trembling right hand, he loosely grasped Dani's Browning.

"H. M., it's Dani."

His hand tightened around the grip of the gun.

She noticed and drew in a deep breath.

_I'm going to have to take it slowly. I don't know where he thinks he is, but I have to bring him back to reality._

"I was worried about you."

_That's an understatement. _

He rested his head on his knees, hugging his legs closer to his chest.

_Maybe mentioning the hospital and Doctor Freedman will focus his attention on the here and now. _

"Doctor Freedman said I shouldn't have left the hospital but I couldn't stay there, not knowing where you were." She forced her voice to remain steady and soothing.

Inside, her nerves were frayed. He could use the gun on himself or her, for that matter, any second and she was helpless to prevent it.

She could hear his ragged breaths from where she stood.

_Nice and easy, Dani. Don't hurry him. If he's thinking of the past, give him a good memory to think about. _

She knew instantly what memory she wanted him to focus on. She almost smiled as she reminded him.

"Do you remember when we got back from Las Vegas after my brother kidnapped me?"

There was a slight tremor in his gun hand.

"We danced and you said no one was going to take me away from you again. And I said I'd never leave you and I meant it."

_I know he's listening. Why won't he say anything? _

He drew in a long uneven breath.

"You kissed me so gently I think about that moment each night when I fall asleep. You remember that, don't you?"

His head nodded, a small movement but she saw it.

_He remembers. If I can just get him to come down from there . . . _

"I'd like to dance with you right now, have you kiss me like that again. You can provide the music. I love it when I hear you sing to me."

_Let me help you, H. M. Please. _

He shook his head no.

Stunned, she felt two tears trickle from her eyes down her cheeks.

_Why? What did I do? _

"Please?"

He haltingly raised his head from his knees to look at her. As he did, she bit the inside of her lip to prevent herself from reacting.

_He's been in some kind of brawl. _

Blood streamed from the reopened gash at his temple and from his nose and the side of his lower lip. His lower jaw was even more swollen and bruised than before. When he saw her stunned expression, he flinched. His face crumpled with the torment he was obviously struggling with.

As she watched in horror, he brought the gun up and cradled it in his lap.

"You don' know who I am," he rasped. "You don' know what I've done. My Pa 'n' me, we ain' so diff'rent, ya know." He stared down at the gun and added softly, "'N' a special lady like you deserves so much better 'n the likes o' me, Dani."

oooooo

Hannibal breathed a little easier when he observed that the nurse stopped within Murdock's view and was keeping him engaged in conversation.

_Good girl. Keep talking to him while I get Face on the line. _

After what seemed forever, someone picked up the phone on the other end.

It was Face and he was out of breath.

"What took you so long to answer, Lieutenant?" Hannibal saw the glint of something metal in the pilot's hand and knew it had to be Dani's Browning. He concentrated his attention on the hand holding the weapon as Face described asking bartenders at some of the bars and lounges a few blocks away from the hospital if they had seen Murdock.

At the last place they had stopped, the bartender said he had to kick two drunken men out because they started a fist fight. He remembered one of them, a tall slender guy, wore a bomber jacket with a tiger painted on the back. He wasn't the one who started the fight but he didn't try to prevent it either. He got in some solid punches before the bouncer forced him and his sparring partner to leave.

"Well, you can stop asking around and get over to the Calder Avenue I-10 overpass. We found him . . . I don't know . . . Dani's talking to him right now . . . " The Colonel watched as Murdock raised his head to look at the nurse, then brought the hand holding the gun up to rest in his lap. With a sense of dread, he realized what the action meant.

_Don't do it, Captain. _

Hannibal shot out his orders. "Park about a half block east of the I-10 ramp. He's under the bridge near the top. See if you can cut across the ramp on foot and get down to the concrete abutment without him seeing you. He's armed, Face, so be very careful . . . Between Miss Scalatini and me, we'll keep him distracted. But you'd better hurry." As he hung up, Hannibal opened the van door.

Within a minute, Hannibal saw the Corvette park on the other side of the overpass. For once, Face climbed out of the car without opening and shutting the door. He stopped at the passenger's side to tell Cyndy something, then walked toward the I-10 ramp, his eyes on the scenario being played out beneath the I-10 bridge.

Murdock's gaze settled on the gun in his lap, giving Face the opportunity to get to the landscaping shrubs sandwiched between the freeway and the ramp unseen. From there Face would sneak to the concrete abutment and wait until the gunman's attention was focused on Hannibal and Dani before he attempted to subdue Murdock.

_That's my cue to move._

The Colonel left the van and strode toward Dani and Murdock, hoping his presence would not provoke the pilot to react. As he came toward them, he caught a quick movement at the corner of the bridge abutment and saw Face scanning the distance between the armed man and himself. A second later, the Lieutenant hurtled toward Murdock just as he brought the gun barrel up under his jaw.


	137. Chapter 137 Failure

Death Waits In the Wings

AN: Some of Murdock's memories in this chapter come from my story "The Hospital Nurse Affair."

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 137 Failure

He hadn't intended to be found.

_'Course, I didn' mean t' get the snot beat outta me by some guy drunker'n I am either. Jus' good fer both o' us he didn' find the gun. _

He climbed to the top of the concrete abutment and hunkered down under the bridge, comforted by the occasional rumble of traffic passing overhead, knowing he could see trouble coming from at least a half block in any direction.

_Ya wanna keep from bein' caught, ya best get yer back t' the wall 'n' keep it there 'til ya gotta run. _

That was a lesson he learned the hard way when he was homeless after the war.

He needed a place to rest for a few minutes until he felt able to walk again without staggering. At least, that's what he told himself.

He remembered similar times spent in L. A., curled up asleep against a freeway retaining wall on Pico Boulevard or tucked up high on an abutment under the Santa Monica Freeway in such a way he wouldn't accidentally roll down into traffic.

_'N' what if I do fall 'sleep fer a little while? It'd keep me off o' the streets. _

Beaumont's finest would take him in if they saw his bloodied bruised face. They would figure he was drunk. They'd be right. And who knew if the bartender or the guy he left bleeding in the alley hadn't alerted the police to what he had done?

Billy's voice was keeping him company, telling him about that place where his people waited for him. He was beginning to relax, let his guard down, feel safe.

And then Dani showed up and spoke his name, pulling him back.

_If Dani's here, it means one o' the guys're here, too. Prob'ly Hann'bal. Prob'ly madder 'n a wet hen at me fer what I did. But I had to. He's gotta understan' I'm puttin' the team, Amy, anyone we help, in danger. _

He considered the violence he had witnessed during his time with the Company. Innocents had a habit of getting in the way and getting hurt, sometimes killed.

_Dani's in danger, too. Can't ever have a normal life with 'er. Company don' jus' let their guys wander 'round free. They gather ya back in soon's they need yer services 'gain. _

His thoughts went back to the cryptic notes he received in the weeks before the team took the current mission. Each one a warning to remain silent, each one telling him he was being watched. He hadn't shown anyone, not even Dani, what the notes said. At the time, he didn't know who sent them but now it made perfect sense.

_Someone knows the guys spring me. They know I'm sane 'nough t' be on the outside. My cover's blown. _

"I was worried about you." He heard her say the words but he didn't know how to respond.

_Didn' mean fer anyone t' worry. Least o' all Dani. _

"Doctor Freedman said I shouldn't have left the hospital but I couldn't stay there, not knowing where you were."

He wanted to scold her for not following the physician's orders.

_But how can I get mad at 'er fer doin' somethin' I'd do myself if the tables were turned 'n' she went missin'? _

"Do you remember when we got back from Las Vegas after my brother kidnapped me?"

_What **don'** I 'member 'bout that? I couldn' stop 'em from takin' 'er. I nearly got blown t' kingdom come. Yeah, I 'member that jus' fine. Couldn' protect 'er then 'n' can' protect 'er now. From nobody. _

"We danced and you said no one was going to take me away from you again. I said I'd never leave you and I meant it."

_Said a lotta things. Meant 'em too. But that was 'fore I 'membered the Company, Henderson, what I did. _

He felt as if he didn't have enough air in his lungs to answer so he took a deep ragged breath.

"You kissed me so gently I think about that moment each night when I fall asleep. You remember that, don't you?" Her voice was like a sweet salve on his injured soul.

_What'd she play on that ol' record player? "When a Man Loves a Woman." Yeah, that was it. She said she didn' plan it that way but it was jus' the right song fer a slow dance. _

How many nights when it wasn't her shift did he think about that special date she planned for them in the day room? How many nightmares were kept at bay because the last thing he thought about before he slept was her kiss?

He tried to smile but it became a grimace. She was waiting for him to answer. He nodded his head just enough for her to see.

"I'd like to dance with you right now, have you kiss me like that again. You can provide the music. I love it when I hear you sing to me."

_She can't see me like this. She made me promise not t' drink 'n' I went 'n' blew it. I'm no better 'n Pa. 'N' __I got bigger demons after me th'n he does. _

He had to shake his head no.

Then she said "Please" in such an achingly pleading tone that it shattered him inside. The ominous voice that had tormented him so much lately taunted, "_Ya can't ever keep 'er safe 'n' ya won' ever be free while yer 'live. But ya can change that, can't ya?" _

He had to see her one last time even if the damage to his face from the fist fight would scare her.

_Jus' one more look. _

He raised his head slowly and flinched at her reaction.

_I look that bad, huh? _

He raised the hand holding her Browning into his lap and tried to steady his thoughts.

"You don' know who I am," he rasped. "You don' know what I've done. My Pa 'n' me, we ain' so diff'rent, ya know."

The voice sneered at him, _"That's right. But you done so much worse 'n' he did. How many'd you kill over there in Nam? Some o' 'em _**_musta_**_ been innocents. 'N' what 'bout that crash that killed that crew. Ya did that, too." _

He stared down at the gun in his hand.

_No way outta this. Henderson knew there wasn'. 'S why he did what he did. _

"'N' a special lady like you deserves so much better 'n the likes o' me, Dani."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hannibal approaching. The voice became more urgent.

_'Fore he gets here, ya know what ya gotta do, boy. Do it now 'fore he talks ya outta it. _

He squeezed his eyes shut.

_If I look at Dani anymore, I won' be able t' do what's best fer both o' us. She don' deserve t' be treated like Ma was. _

He raised the Browning, swallowed the hard lump that formed in his throat and pressed the barrel under his jaw.

Dani screamed and Hannibal yelled, "No!" simultaneously. He felt his hand shaking.

_Gotta make it a clean shot. Don' wanna be no vegetable in a hospital bed. _

He repositioned the gun, centering it behind his chin in the soft flesh. Taking a deep steadying breath, he tilted the angle to make the barrel align directly with his brain. Just as he was about to squeeze off the round, something collided with his body and sent him sprawling on his back. Someone gripped his wrist and smashed his hand repeatedly against the concrete until he let go of the gun.

And then he was being held down. Something heavy pressed on his waist, pinning him to the cold hard surface. He bent his knees, trying to arch his back and get the weight off him but it wouldn't allow him. Opening his eyes to glare at his would-be rescuer, he found Face scowling down at him. The Lieutenant had straddled him and held both of his wrists at his sides.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Face shouted at him. He let go of one wrist long enough to draw back his hand and cuff Murdock across the face to emphasize his words. It was a hard blow but not as hard as it could be. The pilot stared with wild-eyed bewilderment back up at him.

_That's the second time ya hit me in less 'n a day._

Moments later, Dani knelt beside him, tears streaming down her cheeks. She reached out to cup his face in her hands and force eye contact. "How could you try to do this? I love you. I need you. Don't you believe me when I say that?" He wanted to reach out to her, keep her from hurting, show her he loved her just as much, but he couldn't. Face thought he was still a threat to himself.

_'N' maybe I am. _

On the other side of him, Hannibal was straightening from bending over to pick up the gun. He tucked it in his jacket pocket. His grim eyes regarded the pilot for a second, reflecting his worry and disappointment. Without saying a word, he made his way down the abutment to the sidewalk below and trudged wearily to the van. Murdock groaned and stopped struggling.

_Face's mad at me. I made Dani cry. Hannibal's so disappointed in me he won' even talk t' me. Guess I should be glad the big mudsucker ain' here t' tell me what _**_he_**_ thinks. _

"God, buddy. What'd you think you were doing?" Face muttered as he released Murdock and sat beside him. Clasping his hands together over bent knees, the Lieutenant stared down at him and waited for a response.

He tried to answer but all that would come out was a whimper of pain.


	138. Chapter 138 Like Father, Like Son?

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 138 Like Father, Like Son?

"I know what we saw him do but isn't this a little extreme, Hannibal?" Dani crossed her arms and watched as the Colonel tightened the improvised restraints that bound Murdock's wrists and ankles to the bunk bed frame in the lamp-lit bedroom. Cyndy and Face had returned to the hospital to keep Winton company and relieve B. A. It was about two in the morning.

The pilot had been unconscious ever since Hannibal injected him with some of B. A.'s etomidate, used to get the Sergeant on aircraft when needed. Forcing Murdock to leave the bridge abutment and go to the van required almost all of Face's and Hannibal's combined strength.

_He didn't say a word_, Hannibal remembered with growing uneasiness. _He fought us like he was a wounded wild animal. _

"There's no sense taking chances," the Colonel told her in the van after they subdued a struggling Murdock and bared his arm long enough to administer the dose. "The way he tried to break free and run away again tells me he isn't thinking clearly at all. First time we stopped at a light or stop sign, he might open the door and bolt."

Within seconds the pilot's movements slowed and he fell asleep with his head resting in Dani's lap. Getting the unconscious pilot into the house and up the stairs required less effort with B. A. helping. Dani removed his tennies and placed them side by side in the closet while B. A. took the bomber jacket off and draped it over the back of a chair. Hannibal removed his cap to better assess the facial injuries from the fist fight he had been in.

"I've seen how he reacts every time he's been in restraints on the psych ward. He'd sooner chew his hands off at the wrists than be prevented from moving at all." Dani slid a chair close to the head of the bed and sat down. Her expression showed she still had not fully come out of the shock of seeing Murdock put the loaded gun under his chin. B. A. and Hannibal exchanged worried glances.

_She's right. It won't be easy keeping him from hurting himself. She's seen this type of thing before on the ward, I'm sure. But it's different when it's someone you love so much. _Hannibal stood back, looking down at the nurse as she dipped a washcloth in a basin of warm water and dabbed at the congealed blood on the pilot's face.

"Well, what would you suggest, Miss Scalatini? Should we take him down to the root cellar to stay with his father?" The Colonel scanned her coolly and set his mouth in a firm line.

_She has to look at this situation sensibly, put aside her emotions and treat him like she would any other suicidal patient. _

"No. No, of course not." Catching her trembling lower lip between her teeth, she shook her head. On the edge of the bed was an ice pack wrapped in a towel. When the blood from his nose, lower lip and head wound was cleaned up, she would hold the ice pack on his jaw to reduce the swelling from the blows he had received.

Scrutinizing the nurse as she worked, the Colonel made a decision.

"I'm going to have B. A. sleep here in the upper bunk while you're here watching him." When Dani caught her breath to protest, Hannibal added, "Just for your personal safety. You don't know for sure what he's going to be like when he wakes up."

B. A. nodded his agreement. "Think I'll carry that armchair up here instead, Colonel. Won't be as comfortable but least if he gets t' moving 'round too much I'll wake up easier."

The Colonel examined the expressions on Dani's and B. A.'s faces. They both looked like they needed two or three days of solid sleep. But he knew neither would sleep soundly until Murdock was back to whatever normal was for him.

"And we'll have to see later if he's well enough emotionally or mentally to take the stage tonight for the final performance. At this point, it looks like I might have to act as his understudy again." That prompted a grumbling unintelligible remark from B. A. "We have to try to figure out what's going on in his head and correct it before then."

He reflected on what Face had told him about his encounter with McKeever in the basement. Hannibal glanced at the sleeping man and added, "_If_ it can be corrected."

As the Colonel left the room he heard B. A. following him. "Colonel, you mind fillin' me in? If I'm gonna have to help li'l momma in there take care of him, I gotta know what I'm doin'."

Pausing outside the door to the second bedroom, Hannibal nodded. "Murdock tried to kill himself tonight."

When they picked B. A. up at the hospital, he hadn't questioned why Murdock was sleeping so soundly in the back or why Dani had been crying. The new information brought a scowl to the black man's face.

"We don't know why he attempted to commit suicide but I have a suspicion his father is a big part of it. Face told me before we left to pick you up at the hospital he had a little talk with our resident evil citizen in the cellar. He noticed some things."

"Like what, Hannibal? Nobody's had a chance to sit with McKeever 'cept Murdock." B. A.'s dark eyes flickered over the somber expression on the older man's face.

"And for good reason. Murdock's been keeping his father's physical condition hidden from us. Face thinks the man is dying. He may not live long enough for the state of Texas to execute him for those murders."

The Sergeant glanced toward the room they had left, his forehead creasing with sympathy. "Fool knows, don't he."

Hannibal nodded. "I'm afraid so. Face thought he smelled vomit and blood coming from that bucket in the cellar. Murdock's giving his father almost everything he wants right now because he knows he's dying. The only thing he can't give him is his freedom."

B. A. focused his gaze on the Colonel's face. "Think Murdock's mad at you for that?"

"Probably, but I think it's more than that. He's been drinking with his father, telling him about the war. That may have stirred up more memories. We don't know if those memories are strictly from his military service or if they involve some entanglement with the CIA." Hannibal paused, wondering how much he should tell the Sergeant and how much he should let Murdock himself relate later when he could.

"Think tonight was a flashback?" The black man clenched his hands into fists.

"Miss Scalatini said Murdock told her she didn't know him or what he'd done and that she deserved someone better." Hannibal scrubbed his weary eyes with one hand and shook his head. "My thought? He thinks he's so much like his father he would rather kill himself than be like that."

"But he ain' like that," B. A. protested. "Fool drives me crazy with his imaginary dogs, talkin' golf balls an' things he does but he'd be there wadin' in to help if any of us were hurtin'."

"He doesn't trust himself anymore. That's why one of us is going to take McKeever his food and drink from now until we can contact the authorities to come here to arrest him. McKeever's influence stops tonight."

"Murdock ain' gonna like that," the Sergeant said softly.

"He doesn't have a choice anymore. Not after tonight." Hannibal stared at the bedroom door where the pilot was confined before saying good night and entering the second bedroom.


	139. Chapter 139 Like Yer Pa

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 139 Like Yer Pa

Murdock knew he was dreaming but he knew he couldn't will himself out of the dream as much as he tried.

And lately his dreams had a nasty habit of having some truth to them. After all, hadn't the barn caught on fire after he dreamed about it? Hadn't he been in it near the loft area while it was still blazing? Hadn't his dream about the hay shed and cradling a dead Cyndy in his lap given Hannibal and Face the location where his Pa left her to die?

So he gave up attempting to wake up and steeled himself for whatever revelation he would discover through his dream, no matter how nightmarish and damaging it might be.

oooooo

_It was his fourth birthday. Before his Gramma sent him outside, he smelled the aroma of something baking. He wasn't sure but from the twinkle in her eye he knew it was something special for him._

_He was walking out to the barn to feed the horses some carrots from her vegetable garden. Gramma told him the carrots would help the horses see better and he believed her. Giving the horses treats like that was one of H. M.'s chores. _

_It was even more important now that he be a man and help his grandparents in whatever way he could. His mother was in the last stages of her pregnancy and rested in bed a lot more often. His Gramma and Grampa looked worried when they talked about her. They told him he'd soon have a baby brother or sister._

_That thought made him swell up with pride. He hoped Ma would give him a baby brother. He'd teach him how to thread a worm on a fish hook and help him learn to read just like he knew how to read already. He was going to be the best big brother he could be. _

_The shadow that fell over him swayed in the sunlight. Squinting upward, he saw his father._

"_Happy birthday, li'l man," Pa slurred. "Hold out yer hands. Got a presen' fer ya."_

_Pa's presence meant there would likely be an argument between his parents later on. He had to be ready for that. He wanted to love his father. He just wished the man's temper didn't explode so often at his mother._

_Dropping the carrots to the ground, H. M. obeyed. The brown paper bag had a picture of a cluster of grapes on the outside and from the shape of the bag and the heft he could tell it held a bottle of some kind. He hoped it was a bottle of Coke. Since Ma and he had come to live with Gramma and Grampa, he didn't get stuff like that very often, not even from Ma's friend Mister Delton._

"_What is it, Pa?" H. M. eagerly asked, opening the top of the bag and pulling out a bottle. It didn't look like Coke and he tried not to show his disappointment. His father rarely gave him anything at all so this must be a very special gift. _

_They walked together as far as the barn door. His father carried him under the armpits to a nearby hay bale and sat down on it, settling the boy in his lap._

"_Here. Let me open it fer ya 'n' we'll share it. 'Kay?" The older man took the bottle from the smaller hands and uncapped the top. Tipping the contents into his mouth, McKeever smiled, then held the bottle up to young H. M.'s mouth and encouraged him to take a big gulp._

_It tasted something like grape juice but it burned his nose and heated his belly when he swallowed it. _

_Then Pa took another gulp and offered more to him. When he tried to push away the bottle, his father slapped his face lightly._

"_Don' ya ever say no t' a gift, boy!" _

_His eyes stinging with tears, H. M. let his father tip more wine into his mouth. Again and again his father offered the bottle to him after taking a swig himself. He knew if he didn't accept it, he would get hurt. Within a short time, he was feeling the effects._

"_What do you think yer doin', Harley McKeever?" Neither of them heard his Ma come to the door looking for him._

_She dropped the carrots she had found in the farmyard where H. M. left them. Her eyes widened at the sight of the open half-empty bottle. _

_She screamed with rage and flew at his father, fists flailing. The bottle crashed to the ground, its contents pooling in the dirt. H. M. found himself sprawled in the straw alongside the hay bale with no recollection how he got there._

_A low guttural growl escaping his mouth, McKeever gripped Ma's arms and forced her backwards. She opened her fisted hands and scratched his cheek twice before he punched her hard enough to knock her to the floor. _

"_Ma!" He heard himself yelling, his eyes frantically searching for anything that would get his father away from her. Seeing the pitchfork, he grabbed it. McKeever's back was to him as he rushed to defend his mother. The pitchfork lodged in his father's upper thigh._

_With a cry of pain, McKeever turned on him._

_Murdock looked up into the face of the assailant and saw . . . himself as an adult. It was no longer his father attacking his mother. It was him. He staggered backwards and glanced at the woman on the barn floor. Dani lay on her side, curled up and crying._

"_Noooo . . ." He tilted his head upward and yelled into the empty space of the barn._

oooooo

His cry pierced the gray morning light in the room. He forced his heavy eyelids open and looked around disoriented and terrified. The shelf with his books, the bunk bed above him, the partially open closet door, everything was where it should be.

_I'm home? How'd I get here? Las' I 'member I was at the hospital with Hannibal . . . _

A cool hand brushed across his forehead and stroked back his hair. His gaze settled on Dani. Her blue eyes searched his face for some sign he recognized her. There were dark puffy circles under them as if she had gone without restful sleep for more than a day.

"Shh, shh, shh," she comforted. "It's just a bad dream. I'm here. Nothing's going to hurt you." She continued to caress his forehead with her hand, bending over him to maintain eye contact.

He noted the gauze bandages under her blackened eye and on her forehead and frowned.

_How'd she get hurt? I can' 'member._

"Yer hurt." A sudden thought lodged in his mind, one that repulsed him. "I did that, didn' I." The inside of his mouth was parched and he could barely get the words out. His head pounded with an intense hangover-type headache.

_No, no, no! It's like my dream. I hurt 'er somehow. _

He tried to pull her into a hug. He needed to know she was real, that she wasn't the woman in his dream that he had beaten, that she would willingly come to him without frightened hesitation. His arms would not move. Raising his head from the pillow, he observed with panic the off-white dish towels that tied his wrists to the bed frame.

"Why?" he asked in a hoarse whisper. He flexed his arms and twisted his wrists in an effort to free himself. Anger and dread mixed together and made his movements frenzied. The improvised restraint around his right wrist pulled the bandage off partially, exposing the stitches to the bed springs of the iron frame. With his next jerking struggles, three of the stitches tore out.

"B. A.!" Dani stood and edged away from the bed. She shook the black Sergeant awake, all the while watching Murdock as he yanked violently at the restraints, becoming more agitated with each fruitless attempt to break free.

_She's 'fraid o' me. That proves it. _

"I didn' mean t' do it, Angel. Don' leave me like this. I didn' mean t' do it. Ya gotta b'lieve me." Terror rose up from the pit of his stomach as he begged her to release him.

The taunting voice sneered, _Yer jus' like yer Pa. Both o' ya deserve what ya get. _


	140. Chapter 140 Restrained

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 140 Restrained

"I hurt ya 'n' that's why ya did this, ain' it?" He tried to remember how Dani got injured but couldn't.

_How could I forget somethin' like that? Look at her. How could I do that t' her? _

His body was shaking with the terror of being immobilized, this time without medication to dull his mind. It was bad enough when he was restrained at the V. A. hospital and then given a dose of haloperidol to reduce his agitation.

He never figured out why it created that kind of response in his mind and body.

_A memory I haven' 'membered yet from the camps 'r from somethin' Pa did? Maybe I'll never know for sure. _

But for now he was as much worried about what he did to injure Dani as he was panicked with his situation. "Jus' let me go! I won' do it anymore. God, jus' let me go!" His voice was getting louder with each plea, his thrashing about more violent. Dani swallowed a few times in an attempt to regain control over her emotions.

She touched the gauze bandages on her face, her expression softening when she realized what he meant. "You think you did this to me? Oh, H. M., no. You don't remember the car accident? Holding me all the way to the hospital?"

"Then why'm I bein' held down? I'd never hurt ya, Angel. Ya gotta b'lieve me."

_Liar! _The voice in his head mocked him with maniacal laughter.

"Shut up, fool, before you wake up Hannibal." B. A. patted the nurse on the shoulder to reassure her as he stood to make the pilot be quiet. Crossing his arms and looking at Murdock in disgust, he positioned himself at the foot of the bed. "Dani had nothin' to do with you bein' restrained. She didn't want this for you. Hannibal an' I did it."

Murdock opened his mouth to speak and then closed it. He glared at B. A. for a few moments. "Why?" he rasped.

"You don' remember?" The Sergeant glanced at Dani and shook his head in amazement. "Best tell him, li'l sis."

"Can I sit down beside you, H. M.? You won't try anything, will you?" She anxiously waited for him to answer before settling back in the seat at the head of the bed.

He kept silent but his expressive brown eyes pleaded with her to release him. She shifted her gaze away from his face to the floor and wrung her hands together in her lap as she spoke. "You took my gun from my bag and forced Hannibal into the bathroom. Then you took off."

_I pulled a gun on Hann'bal? Man, how outta it **was** I? _

"We found you sitting under a bridge." She glanced up at him, her eyes troubled. "Your face was bloody and bruised like you were in an accident or had been in a fight."

_No wonder my face feels like it's been tromped on by a herd o' cattle. _

"Near's we can tell, you got in a barroom brawl somewhere. You been drinkin' so much, it's no wonder you don't remember nothin'," B. A. growled. His angry scowl bored into Murdock and made him cringe.

Even worse was the sorrowful hurt in Dani's eyes, the way she was fighting back tears as she looked at him.

_If B. A. knows 'bout my drinkin', then Dani knows I broke my promise t' her. I really screwed up. I'm gonna lose 'er for sure this time._

"You were going to shoot yourself. You said I didn't know you and didn't know what you did in the past." Her eyes misted and she murmured, "You said I deserved better than you."

He turned his gaze toward the wall. His thoughts went back to the nightmare he woke from.

_If that dream I jus' had's true, ya do deserve better, Angel. _

Clenching her fists, she controlled her tears and said fiercely, "I want you to listen to me, H. M. Murdock, and listen to me straight. The past isn't who you are right now. If anyone has a reason to say they deserve someone better, it's _you_. You know what kind of family I come from." She gripped his arm to get his attention but he would not turn toward her. "When I look at you, I see the best. I don't want anyone else. I love you."

Placing her hands on either side of his head, she gently turned his face to make eye contact with him. "_I love you_." Avoiding his bruises and cut lip, she sealed the statement with a soft kiss on his cheek.

_God knows I love 'er so much it hurts. But if I'm anythin' like Pa . . . _

He couldn't tell her the truth. How could he ask her to remain with him? He had so many secrets, so many nightmares and memories that had the potential to change him from Jekyll to Hyde, he didn't know if he could control it anymore. How could he put her in that kind of danger?

And danger not only from his inner demons. The Company never let an agent wander around without keeping an eye on him for the rest of his life. That part of his past was a danger to her and everyone he cared for.

_Now that I 'member, it'd be best for everyone if I jus' disappeared. Let the Company come after me, but leave Dani 'n' my friends 'lone. _

Even as he thought that, he remembered his father and their arrangement, worked out the first time he visited him in the root cellar. It was a solution to both of their problems but not one Hannibal would support if he knew.

"Sooner you get sober an' behave like you're s'posed to, sooner we can let you go. Just remember that, fool." B. A. growled at him and sat back down in the armchair he had been dozing in.

_Yeah, I'll do that, Big Guy. Gonna miss yer fuss 'n' bluster but it's gotta be done. _

Murdock focused his efforts on proving he could be trusted enough to be released. It was essential he was out of the restraints by that evening. He couldn't follow through on his plans unless he was free.

oooooo

Two hours later at six in the morning, B. A. woke Hannibal to change places with him.

"How's he been?" the Colonel asked, stifling a yawn as he pulled on his boots and a fresh button down shirt.

"Been tough, man. No meds to help him sleep or calm him down. How long you think he's gonna have to be restrained?" B. A. cast a worried glance at Hannibal before sitting on the bed to remove his shoes and lie down.

"As soon as he's sober and seems rational again."

B. A. snorted at that. "Gonna be waitin' a long time then."

Hannibal shot the Sergeant a humorless look. "After he's released, one of us will have to be with him wherever he goes so there's no repeats of last night." The Colonel paused at the door. "Hollis Latreque said he would testify against Winton about the shooting at the theater. That should keep Winton under wraps for a while. I'll have Face deliver that copy we made of Winton's signed and witnessed statement to Latreque just before tonight's performance. That will put them on the alert for McKeever. We'll see if he can be trusted to give it to the local constabulary."

"An' if he don't?"

"I still have the original. If I need to, I'll ask Miss Berquon to pay them a visit and drop off the original testimony and a letter telling them where to find Winton, the stolen goods, padlock key and McKeever. If he follows through with the plan, Latreque can do it instead." Hannibal shrugged at the frown B. A. gave him. "Of course, we'll make sure all of this is taken care of early tomorrow morning. By then we should be on our way back to L. A. At least that's my plan."

"Sure Face'll be able to keep Winton quiet 'til then? Your plans don't always work like they're s'posed to." The black man rolled his eyes as he regarded the Colonel's suddenly michievous grin.

"I'm _not_ sure. But when has that ever stopped us before? Have a good rest, Sergeant. We're going to have a long drive ahead of us after tonight's performance."


	141. Chapter 141 Concessions and Visits

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 141 Concessions and Visits

As Hannibal paced back and forth in the bedroom, Dani stood by the door, her eyes downcast. She gnawed at her lower lip and flinched with each heated protest coming from the lower bunk.

"But Pa needs t' be fed. He won' eat if I don' take it to 'im." Murdock writhed on the mattress, wrenching his wrists and ankles back and forth in a futile effort to get free.

Hannibal shrugged as he chewed on the end of his unlit cigar. "If he doesn't eat now, he will later when he gets hungry enough." He removed the cigar from his mouth and pointed it at the pilot as he spoke. "You are _not_ going to be the one to bring him his meals anymore, Captain. At least not alone."

Murdock strained his body upward in a last attempt to break free and then collapsed back, his chest heaving with his short angry breaths. He glared at the Colonel and hissed, "He's my Pa!"

"He's someone who made your mother pregnant but he was _never_ your father." Hannibal stopped his pacing to stand at the foot of the bed. Cigar clamped firmly in the side of his mouth, he emphasized each word with his pointer finger as he repeated the last statement. "_He was __**never **__a father." _

_The sooner you remember that, son, the better off you'll be. _

The pilot squeezed his eyes closed and muttered through clenched teeth, "Ya can' keep me like this forever. Sooner 'r later ya gotta let me go."

The older man glanced at Dani, a grim set to his mouth.

_He's right. But how much can I trust him? _

"I wish we didn't have to do this, Captain, but I'm not about to let you loose to put a gun to your head again."

Murdock winced. Giving both Dani and Hannibal a guilty glance, he muttered, "I didn' know what I was doin'. Ya probed at me with yer questions, brought on a flashback." His guilty look became an accusing glare. "_You_ brought it on, not _me_. Yer no shrink, Colonel. Ya best leave the head work t' the guys that got their plaques on the walls."

_That stung. _Hannibal scrutinized the man in the bed before dropping his gaze. "Fair enough. Maybe some of that _was_ because of my questions. But more of it was because you've been having Happy Hour with your father every time you've taken him his meals." Murdock scowled and looked away.

_And you can't deny that. _

"That's one deep pit none of us are willing to let you fall into again," the Colonel asserted.

When the pilot turned his head to look at him again, Hannibal saw guardedness in his eyes. He got the unsettling feeling that Murdock was keeping a secret again, something more than the fact that his father was dying, a fact he hadn't admitted to anyone yet.

_What's your secret? Why are you so insistent upon taking care of a man who has hated you all of your life? What kind of influence does he have that would drive you to try to kill yourself? _

Before he could say anything more, Dani murmured,"Listen to Hannibal, H. M. We need to know you won't drink anymore. Maybe he'll agree to letting you go if _you_ agree to letting us help you with that and with your father."

Murdock didn't respond immediately. He narrowed his eyes at the Colonel and seemed to be considering the nurse's suggestion.

With a carefully constructed smile, he finally said, "What 'bout it, Hann'bal? Ya think ya can trust me 'gain if I take Dani here with me when I go see Pa? If anyone can keep me from drinkin', she can." He let his eyes flicker in the nurse's direction before focusing on the Colonel again.

_He's trying to bargain with me. _

"This'll be the last I see o' Pa 'fore we leave town 'n' he gets put 'way. Ya wouldn' deny me my last couple o' visits, wouldya? Won' be able t' see 'im anymore when the state gets hold o' him fer those deaths." The pilot put on his most forlorn expression to match the pleading tone of his voice.

Hannibal remembered his last days with his own father in the Detroit hospital room so long ago. His father had been more of a cruel dictator than a father but he never regretted spending those final moments with him.

_How can I deny Murdock's request to be with his father at least one last time? But McKeever has repeatedly tried to kill him. It's different. _

"I don't think . . . " Hannibal began but was interrupted by Murdock.

"'Sides, ya need me t'night on stage, don'tcha? Don' wanna disappoint the audience, doya?" His tone took on a hint of sarcasm. "'Less ya _like_ rotten tomatoes thrown atcha."

_No, I don't. He's proven himself in that role and I don't want to keep him from it. But this is more about seeing his father than about any sense of wanting to complete the mission. _

Against his better judgment, the Colonel squared his shoulders and frowned down at the pilot in silence. "It means that much to you to see your father?"

His gaze intent upon Hannibal's face, Murdock gave him a solemn nod.

"When you visit your father, you will have Miss Scalatini with you and one of us posted outside. At the first sign of trouble, this privilege will be revoked. Do we understand each other, Captain?" The Colonel crossed his arms and scanned the younger man's determined face.

"Perfectly, Colonel." Murdock's cold smile did not make Hannibal feel any more comfortable with his concession.

oooooo

Murdock glanced at the man sleeping on the cot and placed the tray and bottle on the shelf. The woman behind him cast a questioning look at the two glasses on the shelf and pursed her lips. He didn't notice.

"Pa?" he called softly. "I brought ya yer breakfast."

Seeing no response, he frowned at Dani and moved quickly to the bed. He knelt down and hesitated, his eyes widening with dread at what he would find. Reaching out with a shaking hand, he gently touched McKeever's shoulder.

Dani's eyes settled on the bucket and the weakened appearance and gaunt features of the man on the cot.

_This man belongs in the hospital, not in a cellar. If I were to hazard a guess, I'd say it could be a very bad ulcer, cirrhosis or stomach cancer. Poor H. M! What a secret to keep from everybody. _

When the older man's eyelids slowly opened, Murdock let out a relieved sigh. "Scared me, Pa."

"Help me up, boy." McKeever attempted to prop himself up on one elbow and collapsed back onto the pillow.

"Here. I gotcha." The pilot threaded one arm around his father's shoulders and lifted him into a sitting position. With his head, he gestured for Dani to remove the blanket from McKeever's legs.

Once his father had his feet solidly on the dirt floor, Murdock remained beside him. With a nod, he invited Dani to sit in the chair. McKeever slumped toward him and the pilot's arms automatically reached out to wrap around him.

The nurse watched him cradle his father in his embrace like he would a feverish child and felt even more love for Murdock than ever before.

_How he can care for this monster that abused him so badly I'll never know. _

"I gotcha. Lean on me 'til you get yer strength." Murdock somberly gazed at Dani to gauge her reaction. His father's head resting on his shoulder, the pilot carefully shifted position to make the older man more comfortable. "Brought ya somethin' t' eat. Want me t' bring it over to ya?"

"Not very hungry this mornin', son. Had a hard night." McKeever's voice was barely above a hoarse whisper.

"Sorry t' hear that, Pa. Anythin' I can do t' make things easier?" He shot an alarmed look at the nurse and then turned his full attention back to his father.

McKeever shook his head slightly. "Jus' glad yer here t' keep me company fer a while."

"Ya wan' me t' pour ya a drink, Pa?"

The older man shook his head again. Glancing over at Dani with mildly curious eyes, he gave her a faint smile.

"Ya brought me a visitor." He peered at the young nurse and recognition made him grin a little wider. "The wildcat from the hospital."

_He remembers me. Good. Then he should remember I won't take any nonsense from him either. _

Murdock gave Dani an apologetic shrug. "Pa, this is Daniela Scalatini. She's a nurse at the V. A. hospital in L. A."

The older man nodded a greeting. "Didn' 'spect no one but my boy. Las' visitor I had was yer friend. Asked me a buncha questions."

Dani noticed Murdock flinch. "Sorry he bothered ya, Pa. Won' happen 'gain."

"It's alright." McKeever brushed it off with a slight wave of his hand. "A nurse, huh?"

She nodded, her gaze focused on the man's eyes. "Is there anything we can get for you for your pain, Mister McKeever? Anything your physician has prescribed?"

_How do I get him to tell me exactly what's wrong? Neither of them seem to want to tell me anything. _

The older man shook his head. "Nothin' touches it, li'l lady. Not anymore. Doctors won' see me. Not withou' money t' pay 'em. Pretty much a hopeless case anyways."

The pilot closed his eyes, his face distorted with grief. Seconds later he composed his inner feelings enough to speak. "Look, Pa. Ya need t' eat somethin' even if it's only a couple bites o' eggs. I'll help ya. Dani here'll help ya. Won'tcha, darlin'?"

She nodded and murmured, "Of course I will." As she stood and brought the tray to Murdock, he flashed her a relieved smile.

She knelt in front of McKeever, glanced at the contents of the bucket and then into Murdock's eyes.

_At least now I know enough to help both of you through this. But we **will** talk later, H. M. _

Understanding the unspoken message behind her look, he sighed and picked up a forkful of egg to feed to his father.


	142. Chapter 142 Silence Is Golden

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 142 Silence Is Golden

As they left the root cellar, Murdock looked at Dani, shifted his gaze toward Hannibal as he padlocked the door and glanced back at her again. He shook his head in warning before she could ask him anything.

"Ya wanna take a walk with me, darlin'? Work off some o' that breakfast we had earlier?" Taking her by the elbow, he motioned with his head toward the forest path that led to the hay shed. "That is, if ya think ya can trust me with my girl for a while 'n' not need a babysitter t' make sure I don' hurt 'er." He leveled the statement at the Colonel, challenging him to refuse them time to be alone. The coffee brown eyes had a defiant flash to them as he stared at the older man and waited for an answer.

Hannibal took the tray and bottle from the nurse. The sarcasm had stung but he wasn't about to let Murdock see a reaction. "Go ahead. I'm sure Miss Scalatini knows how to protect herself _and_ keep your mind off drinking." He gave them both a measured look before continuing on to the house.

Murdock breathed an inaudible sigh and relaxed his tense muscles. Twining his arm around Dani's waist, he strolled with her through the weeds in the yard. After a few seconds, she hesitatingly wrapped her arm around his waist as well.

Not until they reached the path did either of them say a word.

"Does he know what it is that's causing the vomiting, weight loss and pain?" Dani finally asked.

"How did you know Pa was in pain?" Murdock kept his gaze on the path at his feet, slowing the pace to listen to her answer.

She sensed his sudden wariness and wanted nothing better than to assure him he could trust her with whatever was going on.

And there _was _something going on. She knew it instinctively by the way he had spoken to Hannibal, by the distance he maintained from all of them. Even now as they ambled down the path, almost as close as Siamese twins in the physical sense, she discerned he was preserving a detached emotional distance from all of them, even her.

"Uh uh. Remember, you don't answer a question with a question. So he _has_ told you what it is." She peeked up at him to note his reaction, then wished she hadn't brought up the subject at all.

The grief he bore inside reflected so plainly on his face that she wanted to stop and hold him while he let it all out. And then he forced the intensity of the feeling back down deep inside as he stared off into the distance and took a deep breath.

Exhaling, he came to a halt and faced her. He gently grasped her by the elbows and scrutinized her face before saying anything.

When he did, it was with a husky emotion-laden voice. "He's dyin', darlin', 'n' I can't do nothin' 'bout it. Nothin' but try t' be a good son t' 'im while he's still 'live t' see it."

He wrapped both arms around her and held her tightly, his eyes closed.

His body was shaking again but she knew it wasn't from cold or fear. As she allowed him to work through his pain without interruption, he whispered, "I thought when he didn' wake up . . . I thought he _had_ died. He got worse, a _lot_ worse durin' the night. 'N' I wasn' here t' take care o' him."

He pulled away, his troubled eyes searching her face for understanding. "He said maybe two, three months he'll be gone. 'N' if Hann'bal gets his way, all o' that'll be time spent locked up."

"What are you not saying to me, H. M.? He murdered people. Doesn't he have to pay for that?" She tried to reach up and stroke his cheek but he backed away, shaking his head.

"I don' know anymore. I don' know. He's the las' o' my family still livin'. Don' know o' anyone else." Stuffing his hands in his pants pockets, he scuffed at the ground with the toe of his tennis shoe. "He'll be dead anyway 'fore they can try 'im and sentence 'im. 'N' this kinda death's worse 'n what they can do t' 'im."

She frowned. "What are you thinking about doing?"

He gave her a bleak scowl and muttered, "Never mind. Forget I said anythin'." He began to walk briskly back to the house, leaving her to hurry to catch up.

oooooo

Throughout the morning until Hannibal made the trip to Beaumont to sit with Winton, he detected an uncomfortable tension between Dani and Murdock. When B. A. woke later in the morning after only a few hours of sleep, he noticed it as well.

Pulling the Colonel aside, he asked about it in a low mutter. "Fool do somethin' to make Dani mad at him?"

The older man glanced across the dining room toward the kitchen where the nurse whisked three eggs together in a small bowl and the pilot diced onions and green peppers for B. A.'s omelette. She glanced at him occasionally, a sorrowful cast to her features. He chopped the ingredients so fiercely that Hannibal worried he would accidentally take the tip of a finger off with one of his reckless slices. "I don't know."

"They ain' spoke hardly at all for the last half hour." The Sergeant frowned as Murdock brushed past Dani without a word to get something from the ice chest. She opened her mouth to speak but shut it again when he glared at her on his return to the sink.

Hannibal shrugged. "They went for a very short walk together and came back like this. I have no idea what was said."

Shaking his head, B. A. followed the Colonel to the door. "Gonna be pretty quiet 'round here without them sayin' nothin'. Don't know if I'm gonna like that at all."

"Now B. A. You're always telling Murdock to shut up. You got your wish. No sock puppets or super hero disguises. No diatribes about liberating golf balls. No reminders that you're his brother because of that blood transfusion. Just . . . quiet." Hannibal grinned and patted the big man's shoulder.

The smile left his face within seconds when he heard Murdock snap "Well, excuse me!" at Dani for something.

"Just because you're angry at me doesn't give you the right to talk to me that way, H. M.!" Dani loudly retorted, her voice catching halfway through the statement.

"So much for quiet. Try and make the best of it, B. A.," Hannibal muttered.

The Sergeant growled.

"Some last instructions before I go to relieve Face and Cyndy and give Face the copy of Winton's testimony to give to Latreque later. Under no circumstances is Murdock to visit his father without Miss Scalatini being with him. I'd send you down with him but I don't think our Captain would take kindly to it. At the first sign of trouble, let Miss Scalatini out of there."

B. A. raised his eyebrows. "What about Murdock?"

"You may have to use force. He likely won't come willingly."

"And McKeever?"

"Whatever it takes to keep him there, Sergeant."

oooooo

"You wanted to see me, Winton. Here I am." Hannibal nodded at the man in the bed before sitting in the chair at the end of the bed.

_By tomorrow morning we'll be on our way back to Los Angeles and McKeever and this sleazeball will be in the hands of the authorities. _

The thought made him relax a little on the inside but he knew he could not let it show externally. If Winton suspected what they were about to do . . .

"So yer boy managed t' get his Pa outta the barn. Ya got a handle on McKeever so he don' come 'n' try t' finish what he started?" The injured man peered at the Colonel.

"We know where he is. We don't anticipate he'll show up here while one of us is still here." Hannibal laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back in the chair. From the moment Winton dove from the barn loft window to the ground below to escape McKeever's bullets to the time he woke from the barbiturate-induced coma, the man in the bed had been oblivious to what had been happening. The story they had agreed upon to tell Winton was that McKeever had run away during the commotion over Murdock's injury and the barn fire.

_And that's in our favor. Let him think there's still a chance McKeever could sneak in here to kill him. It'll keep him from wanting to talk to the authorities. _

"Ya got the goods outta the bank so we can finish our deal, Smith?" The ex-security guard smirked, his eyes glinting with the thought of the money he would get from the private sale of the stolen items.

Hannibal gave him a curt nod. "But they're somewhere only me and my men know about. We'll let you know where they are _after_ we've gotten out of the area and are sure you've given the authorities your testimony about Delton's murder. We've made quite a few friends during our visit that'll be waiting to tell us as soon as you have."

_Of course, his spoken testimony isn't necessary as long as we get the written testimony into their hands shortly before we leave. _

"Ya think ya got it all covered, don'tcha?" The smirk left the injured man's face.

Hannibal flashed him a broad grin. "Oh, I know I do and unless you want a visit from McKeever while you're still weak and unable to defend yourself, you'll keep your mouth shut."


	143. Chapter 143 Out of the Cellar

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 143 Out of the Cellar

"McKeever tries anything, anything at all, li'l sis, you pound on that door loud as ya can an' I'll get ya out of there." B. A. glowered at Murdock as he spoke to Dani. The pilot held his father's supper tray in one hand and an unopened bottle of whiskey under his arm.

He glared at the Sergeant. "Jus' open the door 'n' let me worry 'bout my Pa 'n' whether he tries somethin' 'r not." A hint of menace crept into his tone.

"Hannibal's orders, fool. An' lately you ain't been seein' things as well as the rest of us have." B. A. removed a key from the pocket of his jeans and bent to unlock the padlock.

"'N' what ain' I been seein'? Seems I been seein' guys I thought were my friends makin' me break a promise, puttin' me in the hospital when they know how I feel 'bout that, tryin' t' keep me from takin' care o' somethin' I gotta do, questionin' my judgment, restrainin' me 'gainst my wishes. I think I been seein' things jus' fine." If the flurry of angry words coming from Murdock surprised B. A., he didn't show it.

"Jus' followin' Hannibal's orders," he mumbled as he lifted the door up and exposed the stairs leading to the cellar. A wave of foul smells wafted up from the room at the bottom of the steps. "Remember, you gotta be on stage in 'bout an hour an' a half. Ya got 'bout a half hour to visit before we gotta go."

A strange look passed over the pilot's face. He glanced at the faint glow coming from the oil lamp in the cellar and growled, "I 'member."

B. A. touched Dani on the arm as she passed by to follow Murdock down the steps. Gesturing with his head at the Captain, he mumbled, "If _he_ does anything to hurt ya or make ya feel unsafe, pound on that door, okay? Somethin's still not right with him."

"H. M. won't hurt me." The steadiness in her voice did not match the uncertainty in her eyes.

"Jus' sayin' if ya need me, I'm right here. I won't let him do somethin' he'll regret later an' I _won't_ let _either_ of 'em hurt ya."

She smiled and nodded. "Thanks, B. A. He doesn't realize sometimes how good of a friend you really are."

He gazed at her with a somber expression as she turned toward the root cellar.

"Dani!" Murdock called to her from the room below. His voice bordered on panic. "Please! Help!"

Hearing the desperation and fear in the pilot's tone, B. A. hesitated for only a moment before following the nurse down into the dim light of the cellar. He wrinkled his nose, recognizing the intense odor of vomit, blood and urine. For a moment, he remembered the POW camp.

Then the memory receded as he heard the nurse's worried voice. "I'm here, H. M. What's wrong?"

He hurried down the steps until he stood directly behind Dani.

Kneeling beside the cot, Murdock gripped his father's hand and felt behind McKeever's jaw for a pulse. His frantic eyes briefly flickered to the Sergeant before settling on the nurse.

"I can't get 'im t' wake up."

Dani took her position on the other side of the cot and gently moved the pilot's hand away so she could assess the older man's condition. Murdock kept his distressed gaze on his father's ashen gray face.

McKeever's chest barely rose and fell with his irregular breaths. His eyelids opened halfway but his fixed stare was on shadows on the ceiling of the room.

Dani glanced up at the black man blocking the stairway. "His pulse is very weak. We've got to move him out of this cellar and into the house. He should never have been confined down here for this long in the first place."

"Hannibal said . . . " The Sergeant muttered.

"Does my Pa _look_ like he's gonna get up 'n' run 'way, stupid?" Murdock snarled as he rose and confronted him face to face. "'N' if ya don' wanna go 'gainst Hannibal's orders, I'll carry 'im outta here myself. He _ain'_ stayin' down here no more."

McKeever drew in a rattling breath. For a second his chest spasmed with apnea. Both B. A. and Murdock turned their heads to focus on the man on the cot.

"Pa?" Collapsing onto his knees beside his father again, the pilot grabbed one of the pale skeletal hands. His troubled eyes darted across his father's features, willing him to continue breathing. McKeever exhaled and took in several short rapid breaths but didn't respond in any other way.

Murdock bowed his head and closed his eyes in relief. Squatting, he hooked his left arm under his father's legs and threaded the other arm under his upper body. As he attempted to lift McKeever, he grimaced with the pain that shot through his left upper arm.

"Not like that, fool." B. A. was beside him in an instant, gripping his right shoulder. "Put 'im down. We'll carry 'im up on the cot."

With Murdock at the foot of the bed and B. A. at the other end, they lifted the makeshift stretcher and brought McKeever up into the waning sunlight. Dani led the way to the house, opening the door for them.

After setting the cot up in the dining room beside the couch as Murdock directed, B. A. moved toward the door. "I gotta call Hannibal, let 'im know what's goin' on."

"Yeah, you do that," the pilot muttered absently as he adjusted blankets over his father's thin frame. "We'll be here when ya get back."

The Sergeant motioned for Dani to follow him outside.

"Hannibal ain't gonna like this at all. He may want ta talk to you 'bout McKeever's condition."

Even before B. A. finished what he was saying, Dani shook her head.

"What am I going to tell him, B. A.? The man is dying. Murdock said his father told him two or three months." She crossed her arms, hugging herself, and glanced toward the house.

"This don't look like no two or three months." B. A. directed his concerned gaze in the same direction. "How long dya think?"

"Hours. Days." She shrugged. "Look. I have to get back inside, see if H. M. needs help. Just tell Hannibal what happened and what I told you."

She moved off toward the veranda as B. A. watched with sympathy in his eyes. "Poor fool," he muttered before striding to the van to make the call to the Colonel.

oooooo

"You can leave his side for a couple of hours. I'll make sure you get back immediately after the performance." Hannibal frowned down at Murdock as he dipped a sponge in a cup of water and moistened McKeever's lips with it. "You have to finish the mission."

The muscles around the pilot's mouth tightened. He cast a resentful look at the Colonel. Setting the sponge and cup beside him on the end table, Murdock stared down at the floor before returning his attention to his father. Beside him on the couch, Dani raised apologetic eyes to the older man.

"Hannibal's right, H. M. I'll be here to watch him. B. A.'s going to be here, too. Between the two of us we should be able to keep him comfortable until you get back." Dani pulled his hand up to her cheek and kissed his palm. She forced herself to continue to look into his eyes even though his agonized expression hurt her deeply.

"Li'l sis an' I'll take good care of 'im." B. A. pulled up a kitchen chair on the other side of the cot and sat down. Folding his arms across his chest, he added, "You got my word on that, man."

A car horn sounded outside. "Come on, Captain. Cyndy's waiting for us." Hannibal walked to the dining room door and waited.

"If he gets worse . . . " Murdock's eyes darted from Dani to B. A. and back again.

"We'll call the theater. But he ain' gonna die without you bein' here. I won't let 'im." The Sergeant forced his face into his most threatening expression to reassure the pilot.

Murdock smiled faintly at B. A.'s menacing appearance. "I almos' b'lieve ya, Big Guy." He took a deep breath and gripped his father's hand tightly. "I hafta go for a while, Pa. I'll be back 'fore ya know it 'n' I'll tell ya more 'bout the war. 'Kay?" He scanned McKeever's face for any sign that he had heard and understood. Seeing none, he sighed and rose to his feet. "I'll be back, Pa."

B. A. and Dani watched as Murdock trudged to the door and Hannibal patted him on the back before ushering him out. Neither of them noticed McKeever's eyes squeeze tighter as the door closed behind the two men.


	144. Chapter 144 Who'll Stop the Rain?

Death Waits In the Wings

AN: The song Murdock sings at the end is Creedence Clearwater Revival's 1970 song "Who'll Stop the Rain?"

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 144 Who'll Stop the Rain?

" . . . the hour is come  
To end the one of us, and would to God  
Thy name in arms were now as great as mine."

Murdock's vehement tone cut through the anticipatory silence in the theater as he gripped the prop sword tighter.

Moments later, Evan Dunlow and Murdock circled each other on stage. The pilot made the first thrust with his sword which Dunlow parried.

This was his big scene, the death scene. Hannibal watched carefully for any sign the previous week's ill health coupled with the all too real near death was adversely affecting Murdock's performance. He noted with satisfaction how much more vigor the pilot put into his choreographed movements.

_He's definitely healthier than he was a week ago. He saved his best work for closing night. But every time he's been on stage tonight I could tell he was worried about his father. _

Hannibal felt the familiar surge of pride as the Captain fell to the floor and, in his staged death throes, delivered his monologue.

As the curtain fell on the mock battlefield, the Colonel quickly made his way backstage. The caterers were in the process of setting up a table with buckets of iced champagne and various fancy desserts and other fineries, all paid for by Face. He found Murdock at the side curtain waiting impatiently for Cyndy's and his turn to take their curtain call. Cyndy gave Hannibal a sad smile as he stopped next to the pilot.

"I talked to Face earlier and told him to hold off on giving Hollis Latreque the copy of Winton's testimony." He peered sideways at Murdock, hoping the news would relieve some of the younger man's anxiety.

_I can agree to waiting until McKeever's condition improves enough to hand him over to the authorities. But that won't be enough for him and I know it. _

"Oh?" The actor stared straight ahead. The only other reaction to the statement was a barely perceptible tightening of the muscles in his jaw and a nervous swallow. "Thought you were pretty dead set on gettin' outta Dodge sometime t'night."

The loud applause decreased in volume as Doctor Freedman and Evan Dunlow came backstage. Murdock took Cyndy's hand and frowned at the Colonel. "'Scuse us for a sec while we take our bows?"

"We can talk after the curtain calls. I just thought you'd like to know now." The Colonel nodded as Murdock cast a tentative grateful smile his way. "Now go and let your audience give you the praise you earned."

He watched thoughtfully as Murdock parted the side curtain for Cyndy before escorting her to center stage. The resulting wild applause and whistles brought a grin to Hannibal's face.

_Just what Murdock needs to boost his spirits. And now to take care of that other business. _

Hannibal snared Doctor Freedman's arm as he walked past. "Doc, do you have a second?"

"What now, Smith? You know, I went through med school but that doesn't make me a reservoir of free medical information. Someone else in your party fall ill?" The physician scowled, then cocked his head at the obvious seriousness on the Colonel's face.

"Captain Murdock's father, Harley McKeever . . . " He heard the doctor's small snort of disgust before he said any more.

Freedman raised his eyebrows. "And you want me to come out to the farm and check on him. Have you tried taking away his bottle?"

Hannibal's eyes flashed steel gray at that comment. "Doc, I think you'd better keep that sort of talk to yourself around the Captain." Both men turned their heads as one of the crew members called the physician to join with some other cast members for another curtain call.

"I'll drive out there in about an hour but I can't slap a bandage on a lifelong problem with alcohol abuse." A frustrated sigh escaped the doctor's lips.

Smoothing back his hair, he gave the Colonel one more searching look before striding toward the group standing at the side curtain.

Murdock and Cyndy approached Hannibal. The pilot didn't stop beside the Colonel but paced a few steps further and then turned. "How many more curtain calls do I gotta stick 'round for? I gotta get back t' Pa."

He balled his hands into fists and made a motion as if to stuff them into his pants pockets. Remembering his costume did not have pockets, he clenched and unclenched his hands as he anxiously continued to pace back and forth.

"Relax, Captain. Don't you believe B. A. would have called us here at the theater if your father's condition worsened?" Hannibal glanced at Cyndy, suggesting with a head gesture she try her best to calm him.

"H. M., it shouldn't be much longer." The young woman clasped Murdock by his left upper arm and he flinched. She covered her mouth with one hand, her eyes wide, and gasped an apology. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I forgot."

Gripping his wounded arm, he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. "It's okay. Yer alright. Takes some time t' stop hurtin, that's all."

Hannibal narrowed his eyes at the pain Murdock was displaying and made a note to take a peek under the bandage when they got back to the farm.

_It might have gotten infected. _

"Champagne, sir?" one of the caterers asked.

The pilot opened his eyes and glanced at the man who had spoken. He drew in a breath to speak but was interrupted by Hannibal. "Mister McGilvery does not drink. Thank you anyway." Murdock bleakly stared at him as the caterer nodded and moved away.

"Last curtain call, H. M." Cyndy cast a puzzled look at both Hannibal and Murdock before twining her fingers in his and leading him toward the group assembled to walk out in front of the curtain.

_This is the last one, Captain, and then we'll get you home to your father. Hang in there. _

The Colonel hoped McKeever had rallied enough to be able to respond to Murdock. If he died without another word spoken between them, Hannibal did not know how the pilot would handle it.

oooooo

Hannibal left Cyndy at the closing night party. Face would pick her up later when B. A. relieved him from his watch in Winton's hospital room. As he drove the El Camino back to the farm, Hannibal cast concerned glances at Murdock.

The pilot jiggled his legs up and down nervously. He was whispering something to himself but the Colonel couldn't discern what he was saying. With shaking fingers he absently picked at the remaining stitches around his right wrist. Murdock's face was turned to the side window, his pallor creating a ghostly image in the glass.

"I'm trying to get there as fast as I can."

Murdock nodded, a short up and down of his head. "It's alright. Billy says he's still 'live. Ain' able t' talk but he's 'live." He turned his head toward the driver. The bruises around his eye and along his jaw were more pronounced in the light from the dashboard.

_He's going to need at least a week or more to recover from this mission. Hell, we all are. But for him to be talking about Billy again . . . _

"How's your arm?" Hannibal knew he wasn't likely to receive an honest answer.

The pilot shrugged, then turned his head quickly away. As Murdock self-consciously touched the gunshot wound, the Colonel saw the grimace in the ghostly reflection in the window. "I may've overworked it a bit t'night, that's all. I'll get comfy on the couch 'side Pa 'n' talk t' 'im, tell 'im 'bout the jungle, 'bout how pretty it could look from high up 'n the sky."

"You sure you want to talk about that, Captain?" The older man scrutinized Murdock's profile for a second.

"Pa likes t' hear 'bout my flyin'. Wants t' know everythin' 'bout my time over there." The pilot's legs stopped jiggling and he stared off into the darkness.

_No wonder you went back to drinking. _

The question was: did McKeever know what effect his questions were going to have on his son?

Minutes passed before Hannibal heard the faint sound coming from the passenger's side. Murdock hummed a vaguely familiar melody under his breath and closed his eyes. It wasn't until he softly sang the words to the refrain that the Colonel recognized the anti-war song and felt new worry for the sanity of the man beside him.

"And I wonder, still I wonder, who'll stop the rain?"


	145. Chapter 145 Two Patients

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 145 Two Patients

Even before Hannibal got the El Camino parked beside McKeever's white Bronco, Murdock had the passenger's side door open. As the Colonel shut off the engine and pocketed the keys, the pilot sprinted to the veranda and up the steps to the door.

Hannibal hurried after him. He didn't know for sure what they would find when they got inside. B. A. had not called the theater but that didn't mean McKeever hadn't worsened during the four hours they had been away. Knowing Murdock would be on stage most of the time, he would not call unless it looked as if McKeever was very near death's door.

He met B. A. coming out. "Any change?" The Colonel could tell from the way the Sergeant avoided meeting his eyes that there hadn't been any improvement.

"He ain't gettin' worse but he ain' gettin' better either." B. A. glanced over his shoulder. "Think the fool can handle it if . . . " He kicked at a loose board in the veranda deck and cleared his throat. ". . . well, you know . . . might be kinda tough on him . . . after all this stuff he's been doin' for him."

"All we can do is have someone here with him when it happens." Hannibal clapped the Sergeant on the shoulder. "Better go relieve Face now. He's probably more than ready to go to that closing night party and be with his lady. I'll call you if we need you for anything."

"You make sure an' do that, Colonel." B. A. gave the farmhouse door another bleak look before turning away.

Hannibal paused to watch the black man trudge to the van and back it out of the driveway. He steeled himself for whatever was happening inside the farmhouse and went in.

Dani had met the pilot with a comforting embrace. Pulling back, he scrutinized her expression before anxiously approaching the unconscious man on the cot. The nurse stayed back to greet the Colonel at the door.

"I'm here, Pa. I'm back. Not gonna leave ya 'lone anymore. D'ya hear me?" Murdock crooned the words as he pulled the blankets up to chest level on his father and made sure they were tucked in around him. Taking a seat on the couch and grasping one of the chilled hands, he anxiously glanced at the nurse as she came nearer. "Did he wake up 't all while I was gone?"

"He opened his eyes a little when I took his pulse and blood pressure a while ago." Dani sniffed, a sad smile on her lips. "He recognized me, called me 'that wild cat from the hospital' again. At least I made an impression on him."

Murdock nodded, his thoughts distant, his eyes staring absently at his father's face.

The nurse sat next to him on the couch and massaged his back with one hand. He hunched slightly, letting his tight muscles relax under her touch."Would you like me to get you some coffee, maybe something to eat, H. M.?"

Even though her voice was soft and tender when she asked, her question startled him, brought him back from whatever memory he was visiting in his mind. "Huh?"

"Would you like some coffee or a sandwich?" His tormented eyes briefly met hers. He returned his gaze to the man on the cot and muttered, "Maybe a cup o'coffee. It's gonna be a long night."

"And it's something you don't have to handle by yourself." Hannibal sat down in the armchair on the other side of the cot. Dani walked over to the sink and found two clean coffee cups.

The pilot raised his eyes to look at both of them in turn. "Neither o' ya gotta stay up with us. It's my job. He's my Pa."

"I won't leave you to face whatever happens all alone, H. M." Dani handed him a cup of coffee and took a sip out of her own cup before setting it down and settling herself in beside him again.

"The point is you're not getting rid of us so easily, Captain. You may need assistance a little later if his condition changes and this way, we'll be here immediately to help." Hannibal noted the pilot's rising agitation. "Besides, Doctor Freedman will be making a stop out here in a while to see if there's anything he can do. And Face will be here a little later. He might have Miss Berquon with him."

The pilot clenched one hand into a fist. "Nothin' like havin' a buncha people 'round gawkin' when someone's dyin'. Why don'tcha call Faceman 'n' have 'im bring some caviar 'n' champagne while yer at it? Make it a party." Murdock's voice got louder. His eyes angrily darted from one to the other. "What if I don' want the help from any of ya? What if some o' what I gotta talk t' Pa 'bout is private?"

Hannibal raised his eyes to look at Dani. Murdock had hurt her with his vehement rejection of her help. The pain in her expression was apparent.

The Colonel glared at Murdock. "Your father's still a murderer. I don't care how much you think you need to make his final hours comfortable. You're not going to be alone here with him. Do you understand, Captain?"

Murdock flashed resentful eyes at him but he muttered, "I understand."

"Now about that arm of yours . . . " Hannibal stood up and moved toward the couch.

"What 'bout it?" The younger man clutched his upper arm and shrank back into the cushions.

"Come on, Captain. Take off the jacket and shirt and let's look at it." The Colonel silently appealed to Dani with his eyes.

"Here, H. M. Let me help you. It'll take only a minute and then you can get back to taking care of your father."

He pulled away from her and shook his head. "I'm fine. It's Pa needs the TLC, not me."

While his attention was diverted to Dani, Hannibal approached from the side and grabbed Murdock's left wrist. With his other hand, the Colonel forcibly worked the jacket sleeve down the younger man's arm.

His eyes wide with surprise, the pilot sucked in his breath to stifle a cry of pain.

"If you're fine, then why is there blood on your shirt sleeve?" The older man took Murdock by his lower arm and pointed to the fresh stain. "Now off with that flannel shirt and let's take a good look."

"But Colonel . . ."

"_Now_, Captain."

Murdock glared at Hannibal and then sighed. "Okay already. I think I mighta tore some stitches when I was helpin' carry Pa in here. I don' think it's too bad." He unbuttoned the sleeve and bit his lower lip as he slid the shirt off his left arm. Both Dani and Hannibal noticed the painstaking way he eased the material over the wound site and his wince as he accidentally rubbed his hand against it.

"Miss Scalatini, if you wouldn't mind getting the first aid kit from the upstairs bedroom." He nodded toward the stairs. As she left the room, he turned to the pilot. "Okay. Now let's take that bandage off."

Even as Hannibal worked to gently lift the gauze away, he felt the heat generated from the wound. "You mean to tell me you didn't notice how warm to the touch this was getting?"

"Had a lot on my mind." Murdock shivered as the bandage came off. He laid his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. "'Sides, I had to finish the mission, didn' I? 'Less we're dead we always gotta finish the mission, don' we?"

Hannibal shook his head at the blood and yellowish pus oozing from the incision. "Have you at least been continuing with the antibiotics Doctor Freedman prescribed?"

"Often as I can 'member t' take 'em." The Colonel frowned his disapproval as Murdock planted a sheepish half-smile on his face.

Dani swept into the room with the bag of medical supplies. She stopped abruptly when she saw the red outer edges of the incision and the mild streaking up the arm.

"H. M.! Why didn't you tell me how bad this was?"

He turned his guilty smile on her. "Didn' want ya t' worry?" he offered in an apologetic voice. She arched an eyebrow at him and folded her arms in front of her.

There was a knock on the front door and Dani scurried to answer it.

"Thanks for coming, doc." Hannibal rose from his position beside the Captain to greet Doctor Freedman as he entered the dining room. "We've got two patients for you to see tonight, father and son."


	146. Chapter 146 Losing Control

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 146 Losing Control

The midazolam Doctor Freedman injected into him was making Murdock drowsy. He hated that feeling of losing control. It was like running in slow motion toward a steep cliff and leaping into the air only to find out you left your hang glider a few yards behind you.

_The view's breathtaking but the landin's kind o' ugly. Wonder if Wile E. Coyote felt the same way all those times._

He tried to grin at his own joke but could manage only a small flicker at the corners of his mouth. Dani gently brushed her cool hand across his cheek when she saw it.

"I'm right here, H. M. I'm not leaving." He heard the tenderness in her tone and knew she understood how difficult it was for him to accept any kind of medical treatment that would knock him out.

_Ghosts come back t' hauntcha if ya sleep too deep. 'N' they need t' put me out t' do this. Well, I won' go all the way. Only good part 'bout it all is Dani. Face'd kill t' be where I'm at right now. _

With his head resting in her lap, his eyelids drooped to half slits. He fought off the sedation to pay attention to her murmured reassurances.

_Jus' like an angel. _

Someone laid his left arm on a towel-covered tabletop.

_Not Dani. Mus' be either Doc 'r Hann'bal. _

He attempted to brace himself for what he knew was coming. The midazolam was taking effect and his body would not respond. He could no more command his muscles to tighten than he could order B. A.'s van to start with no one behind the wheel.

Doctor Freedman's harried face bobbed in and out of view. Hannibal said something in a muffled voice.

_Gonna hafta speak real slow 'n' loud if ya want me t' hear ya. _

He felt the needle with the lidocaine puncture the skin around the gunshot wound. Biting the inside of his cheek as the needle probed the interior of the incision to numb the deeper areas, he focused his gaze on Dani's blue eyes. Unbidden tears pooled at the corners of his eyes before trickling down his temples onto the nurse's jeans.

"I know, hon, I know." She took his right hand in hers and squeezed it. Her face tightened with sympathy and she began to bite her lower lip in response to his distress.

He knew ahead of time what the doctor had to do would be painful. Necrotic tissue under the stitches would have to be excised and removed and the open wound irrigated with saline solution. He had agreed to the procedure only after arguing with Hannibal over his wish to remain conscious to take care of his father.

_Don' Hann'bal always win? 'Sides, if they think I'm outta it, it'll make what I gotta do easier. If I'm not too outta it, that is. _

He tried to run through his revised plan in his mind. His thoughts were like phantoms peeping out from behind gravestones and disappearing before they could be examined more closely. He needed to wrestle those phantoms to the ground one at a time until he remembered the whole thing.

_Gotta get inta that first aid kit without no one seein'. First chance I get. _

Doctor Freedman complained to Hannibal about the lighting and the Colonel adjusted the position of the oil lamp.

_I bet doc never did field surgery 'fore. Should be an interestin' 'sperience fer 'im. _

The area was not quite numb enough when the physician began removing the stitches to get to the underlying tissue. Murdock gasped out a short huff of air, his face contorting with pain. He involuntarily tightened his grip on Dani's hand.

A light sweat broke out across his forehead as the doctor probed the incision with forceps.

_Dani'll never go 'long with it. She'll hate me for what I gotta do but if I tell 'er, she'll tell Hann'bal. _

Murdock felt the first cut of the curved scissors as Doctor Freedman excised devitalized tissue. The black cottony vapors that threatened his consciousness thickened with each cut the physician made. He forced himself to concentrate on Dani's eyes and saw himself reflected in them.

_Hope Pa's gun's still where I put it in the truck. Don' think nobody saw me go t' the barn 'n' get it. _

He bit his lower lip at an especially deep excision. Dani caressed his cheek with her fingertips as a small whimper escaped from his lips. "Shh, shh. I'm here. He's almost done."

_C'mon. Ya felt worse pain 'n this in Nam. This's nothin'. _

It seemed like hours before the physician loosely packed the incision with sterile gauze and reapplied a bandage to hold it in place.

Doctor Freedman carefully lifted his arm and rested it beside him on the cushions of the couch. Murdock closed his eyes and let his body go limp.

_Hope Faceman does what I think he'll do 'n' stay out late with Cyndy. Gotta get Hann'bal outta the way, too. So much t' do 'n' so li'l energy t' do it. _

He had to assure Hannibal he could be left alone with Dani. If he feigned unconsciousness, maybe the Colonel would.

The doctor moved on to his other patient. Murdock could tell without looking that Doctor Freedman offered no hope for McKeever's recovery. With a frustrated sigh, the physician gave his prognosis.

"Maybe a few hours, maybe even days or weeks, but I doubt it. All you can do is keep him comfortable."

_Comfortable. Was that root cellar Hann'bal's idea of comfortable? Maybe Pa wouldn't o' went downhill so fast if . . . _

"I'll arrange for a morphine drip to ease any pain he may be experiencing. Just understand I can get in a lot of trouble for doing it if anyone found out."

_I knew Pa was dyin' already. So why does what Doc's sayin' hurt so bad? _

"If he were to be put into the hands of the authorities, what would happen?" Hannibal's voice sounded weary.

"He would receive better medical care because he would be in the hospital. No one would be allowed to see him and he would have either hospital security or a police guard posted outside his door. But he would not be suffering. They would allow him to stay until either he recovered sufficiently to be moved to a cell or he died."

Murdock heard Dani take in a sharp breath and clasp his hand tighter. Her action gave him hope.

_Maybe she won' be so hard t' convince after all. Wouldn' hurt t' have a nurse with us on this. _

He contemplated how to persuade her as he waited for the doctor to leave and Hannibal to go to bed.

_If it don' happen soon, Face'll be back 'n' I won' be able t' keep my promise. 'N' this's one promise I mean t' keep. _

oooooo

The Lieutenant stared into the brown eyes of the woman in front of him. His hands encircled both sides of her head as he tilted her face up and covered her mouth with his. He savored the soft warmth of her lips for several seconds before easing her down onto the cushions of the couch in her living room.

His mind screamed at him and he was mildly surprised the voice he heard sounded like Murdock's.

_If you don' wanna scare 'er off, ya better treat her like no other woman ya ever knew. She's special, buddy. Not like yer other women. _

With Cyndy he was stunned to discover he had faint traces of self-control. Faint, but they were there.

Another voice argued with the voice of his friend. It was charming, manipulative, clever. It sounded like his own. And it made him feel sick.

_But she invited you in. If she didn't want things to go where they're going, why did she drink so much champagne and why didn't she drop you off at the farmhouse? _

He had to know how far she was willing to go.

_Never mattered before, Peck. Love 'em 'n' leave 'em. Isn't that what Murdock would say? But it __**does**__ matter with Cyndy. _

With great effort, he pulled back to scrutinize her expression. The seductive words he readied to charm her died on his lips.

She was regarding him with solemn eyes as if trying to come to a decision about something. As he watched, tears welled in the corners of her eyes.

With a frown he caressed her cheek with his thumb. His mind was in a state of confusion. "What's wrong?" he whispered.

She shook her head, a small grimace appearing, then disappearing as quickly as it came. "It's not you. It's me."

He sat up beside her, his profile to her, his hands clasped between his knees. "Okay." Glancing at her with wary eyes, he said, "If I moved too fast, we can slow down. I love you."

_This isn't like me. With any other woman, I'd wear her down with my charms or I'd be out the door, dusting my hands off as I went. _

"I have to be honest. You're going back to California soon. Will you still love me over all those miles?" She drew her legs up under her and huddled in a corner of the couch as she waited for his response. Then she said the words that spoken by any other woman would have driven him off.

"I need to know how far our relationship is going to go, Temp."


	147. Chapter 147 White Rabbits and Promises

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 147 White Rabbits and Promises

_The white rabbit beckoned him to follow. _

_Consulting its pocket watch, it shook its head at him, got down on all fours and scampered along the muddy path. He had to find out where the rabbit was leading him. Rain pattered down from leaves high above him, making the trail slippery and dangerous. Squinting to keep the rabbit in sight, he put his arms out to part the thick vegetation on either side of him. _

_Vining tendrils with minds of their own slithered out to capture his arms and legs and hold him firmly in place. He could not move forward or backward. His heart thundered inside him at the too familiar sensation of being restrained against his will._

_Craning his neck to look up, he spied tiny patches of blue sky rapidly disappearing as a jungle canopy obliterated them one by one. _

_Then the vines became ropes that twisted his arms behind his back and bound him from elbow to wrist, raising him up into the trees and letting his body dangle. The pain intensified in his shoulders and chest and voices shouted questions at him._

_Far below him, from somewhere on the path the white rabbit screamed in agony. Or was it his own screams?_

oooooo

He heard his own unintelligible moans as his mind shook off the last of the jungle memory. His breaths came in short rapid gasps. He twisted his head from side to side to see where the white rabbit had gone but it had disappeared along with the jungle. He was surrounded by darkness. It took a few seconds to wade through the outer reaches of the nightmare before he was in the real world again.

He hadn't meant to drift to sleep. For a few moments he wasn't sure what he had heard to wake him. Was it his own moans or something else?

Forcing his eyelids open as wide as he could manage, he stared directly up into the blue eyes he had come to love so much. She was kneeling beside the couch, frowning down at him, gauging his state of mind before she spoke to or touched him.

_She shouldn' hafta be 'fraid o' me every time I wake up like this. But she is. Gave 'er plenty o' reason to over the las' ten years. _

"Dani?" He hoped that would convince her he wasn't still in the jungles of Viet Nam. He hoped it would keep his mind solidly fixed in reality.

Her hand cupped his face and she bent closer to kiss his forehead. "Shh. I'm here."

He heard a ragged breath from somewhere beside him. The breath rattled, hitched for a second, then came back out in a short gasp.

Startled, he struggled to sit up.

"Pa?"

_Here I am takin' a snooze 'n' Pa coulda died 'n' I wouldn' o' known 'til it was too late. _

He cursed his inattentiveness, then remembered the doctor and the dose of midazolam. Looking down toward the foot of the couch, he noticed an olive drab blanket draped over him up to his stomach. His jacket and flannel shirt hung over the back of the arm chair beside the army cot. He was wearing the dark brown T-shirt Cyndy and Dani had bought for him, the one with the white Corvette and the words 'If you want to drive me crazy, you need a Corvette' on it. His left arm with its fresh gauze bandage lay like a dead weight beside him.

"How's Pa?" Even as he said the two words he threw the blanket off with his right hand and tried to sit up.

"He's still alive, H. M. You need to rest." Dani put her hands on his shoulders to prevent him from moving around. Lying back, he scrutinized her face and winced at the dark smudges under her eyes and her drawn features. She gave him one of her patent soft smiles to allay his concern.

"What 'bout you? Ya look like ya could sleep for a week." He touched the gauze bandage on her forehead with his fingertips, letting them drift over to follow the curve of her ear. She closed her eyes, savoring his gentle touch. He wanted so much to pull her onto the couch beside him and demonstrate how much he loved her. Instead, he satisfied his longing by twining his fingers in her hair and drawing her down to him for a kiss.

_Still can' b'lieve I almost sent 'her 'way 'n' lost 'er forever. _

"Mmmm," she murmured. "That feels nice." She sighed and opened her eyes again. "But I have two patients to take care of and I can't sleep until either Hannibal wakes up or Face or B. A. comes back here to relieve me. Even then . . . " Pulling back from him, she stifled a yawn and shrugged. "Let's just say I have a special interest in making sure one of my patients follows the doctor's orders." She arched an eyebrow at him.

"How long I been outta it?" Murdock stared over at the man lying on the cot beside the couch.

_Hang in there, Pa. I won' let 'em take ya 'way from me. Ya ain' gonna die 'lone. _

Glancing at her wristwatch, she frowned. "It's almost three in the morning? I didn't realize it was so late. It's been about four hours since the doctor was here."

"Four hours?" he repeated. "And Face still ain' back?" Murdock scowled. His mind conjured up images of Face and Cyndy together in the type of position the Lieutenant managed to get pretty girls in all the time.

_He don' know when t' quit. 'N' he jus' might ruin Cyndy's life if he does that. She's not that type o' girl. _

His stomach knotted as he clenched a handful of blanket in his right fist.

"Oh, you know Face. Cyndy and he are probably enjoying some time alone together." Dani got off her knees and sat beside him on the couch. Checking the gauze bandage for any new blood seeping through, she bit her lower lip when she saw the worry in his eyes. "He won't hurt her. He loves her too much to do that."

_I wanna b'lieve that. I wanna b'lieve that with all my heart. But I know my best buddy inside 'n' out. _

Dani watched the play of emotions across his face, saw his gaze flicker over to his father, noticed the clenched fist. She placed her hand over his and sighed.

"He won't hurt her," she said with a hint of doubt in her voice.

Murdock forced himself to smile at her. "Yeah, yer right. They're prob'ly sippin' champagne 'n' eatin' those little finger sandwiches. I bet the party's still goin' on."

_I doubt Mrs. B. would be up t' keepin' the party goin' this late. If he hurts Cyndy in any way . . . _

McKeever drew in a ragged breath and breathed out a raspy incoherent series of words. The pilot winced as he turned his focus back on his father. Too many things were vying for his attention.

_Gotta take 'em one at a time. _

"Darlin, ya gotta let me get up 'n' take care o' him." Murdock searched the nurse's face. "I promised 'im I'd be there for 'im."

Stroking back his hair, she gave him a sad smile. "You're really something special, you know that?" She stood and watched him get to his feet. "Let me help you with him at least. Tell me what I can do and I'll do it."

_Darlin', I thought ya'd never ask. _

"If ya wouldn' mind, I'm gonna need my duffel bag. Couldya get that for me?" He pointed to the stairs and added, "I think it's upstairs in my ol' room."

As soon as she disappeared from his sight, he dug through the first aid kit until he found what he was looking for. Swaying on his feet, he picked his way over to the armchair and struggled to put on his shirt and jacket. Next came the hardest part: convincing Dani to go along with the plan.

_Won' be long now, Pa. You 'n' me're gonna pay our las' respects, then we'll go somewhere where ya can die in peace. I promised ya 'n' I keep my word. _


	148. Chapter 148 Keeping a Promise

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 148 Keeping a Promise

Hannibal woke briefly, unsure of what sound had disturbed his sleep. He listened intently for a few minutes but all he could hear were footsteps retreating downstairs and then Dani's voice in the dining room.

Murdock must have come out of his drug-induced sleep. He was sure McKeever was not the male voice he heard answering the nurse. Doctor Freedman pretty much assured him the pilot's father would drift along in a near-comatose state until he died.

The Colonel reflected on that prognosis.

_If Murdock gets his way, McKeever will never see the inside of a prison. But is justice served if the man is allowed to remain free to die a natural death? _

He had a decision to make. If he elected to let Murdock keep his promise, it would prevent them from leaving for a while. He knew they couldn't keep Winton in the hospital much longer. When Winton was released, there was no telling what he might do, especially if he discovered McKeever was not a threat to him anymore.

Hannibal's mind was torn. In a way, he hoped McKeever would die very soon and spare him having to make the final decision.

_But what will Murdock's reaction be? What kind of mental state will he be in if he watches his father die? _

Until B. A. or Face returned, signaling Hannibal's turn to guard Winton, he would get his rest. The decision would have to be made, but not until sometime the next day. Remembering the crisp rustle of the brunette nurse's uniform in his dream as she pampered him, he closed his eyes and hoped to insert himself in his dream where he left off.

oooooo

Murdock lurched to his feet as soon as she returned from his upstairs room and staggered to meet her. Wobbling slightly with dizziness from the recent surgery and lingering effects of the midazolam, he took the duffel bag from her hands.

_Gotta get my legs back under me. Can't keel over 'til after I get Pa outta Hann'bal's reach._

"Thanks, darlin'." He stroked her cheek. Looking intently into her eyes, he swallowed, wondering whether he was right to trust her with his request. "Gotta ask ya t' do somethin' else. Can't do it 'lone."

_Can I trust ya, darlin'? _

McKeever's breath hitched again. The pilot shot a troubled glance over his shoulder, pausing in his request to see if the man on the cot would resume breathing.

_Breathe, Pa. Please breathe. I ain' ready t' say goodbye yet. _

When McKeever's breath came out in a short huff and was followed by three short rapid inhalations, Murdock turned back to the nurse.

"What do you need for me to do, H. M.?" She frowned as he set the duffel bag on the couch and took both of her hands in his, drawing her nearer.

"Pa tol' me he kept an extra key t' his truck taped t' the underside of the dash. That way, if some bartender kept 'is keys, he could always get home anyways. I need you t' get the truck parked close as you can t' the house." He cupped her cheek in one hand and continued his searching scrutiny of her face.

_C'mon, angel. Don' argue with me. Jus' do what I ask. _

"You're not thinking of moving him." She shook her head. "H. M., be reasonable. How will the two of us get him out to the truck? You're hurt."

Murdock swayed a little and touched his arm. "What? This? I won' use this arm t' carry 'im. If you help me, I won' hafta use it hardly at all." He held up one hand. "Promise."

"And where are we going with him? He's comfortable here, isn't he?"

"We'll find a motel. A bed'll be more comfortable than an ol' army cot." He turned away from her and took two steps toward his father, then faced her again. "Ya gotta help me with this, angel." Murdock gave Dani a pleading look. "You know Hann'bal 'n' his code o' justice. He's gonna turn Pa in if it looks like he ain' dyin' fast 'nough."

The nurse hesitated, glancing from Murdock to McKeever and back again. "Have you tried talking to Hannibal? Maybe he'll let you stay here with me and your father when they leave."

"You know he won' go 'long with that. We don' leave a man behin' 'less there's no other option. That's 'nother part o' the code we follow. He won' go 'long with it, 'specially not for somethin' like this." He swayed slightly as he took in a deep breath. Clenching his fists he fixed her with a cold stare and moved to the door. "Fine. Jus' fine, darlin'. I'll do it myself. Ya can go with the guys in the mornin' back t' L. A. Maybe I'll fin' my own way home when this's all done."

"H. M." She grasped the sleeve of his jacket as he passed. He paused and turned his tormented gaze on her. Tears glistened in her eyes.

_I put 'er in an awful spot. I don' wanna lose 'er but I can' see no other way. _

"I'll help you. Let me get the truck." Her soft quavering voice just about broke his heart. He gathered her into his arms and held her shivering body.

Closing his eyes and taking in the vanilla fragrance of her hair, he whispered in her ear, "I love ya, darlin'. Don' cry. Please don' cry."

For a few moments they stood holding each other. Dani pulled away first, an anguished expression on her face. "I'd better get the truck ready."

Murdock nodded mutely as she went through the door.

_I won the argument but I hurt Dani in the process. Hope she'll forgive me when it's all said 'n' done. _

Turning his attention to the man on the army cot, he debated how best to move him.

_He ain' able t' walk. I can't carry him in my arms. Don' know if Dani's strong 'nough t' carry one end o' the cot. _

The low rumble of the truck engine and the nurse's footsteps on the veranda broke him from his thoughts.

She came up beside him and waited for instructions.

"Only one 'r two ways we can get 'im to the truck. One's t' lift the cot 'n' carry 'im out that way. The other means you'll hafta prop him up inta a sittin' position 'n' help me carry 'im fireman style out the door." He scanned her face for her response.

Chewing on her lower lip, she moved toward the head of the cot and squatted down to grip the frame on either side. "Let's try this at least. Maybe we can get him to the veranda, then try to carry him between us the rest of the way."

He nodded and took his position. "On the count o' three. One . . . two . . . three."

They both lifted at once. He anxiously glanced at Dani as she faced forward waiting for the word to start. Her arm muscles were straining to hold her end of the makeshift bed. "You sure 'bout this, angel? We can do it th' other way."

She gritted her teeth and hissed, "What're we waiting for?"

He almost smiled at her determination but shook his head with admiration instead. _Pa was right. She is a little wildcat when she's bein' stubborn. _

"Let's go then."

Maneuvering around the couch, she kept her eyes on the path to the front door. He heard her short gasps of breath as they moved and hoped she wasn't overdoing it.

"Okay. Set 'im down," he muttered when they reached the door. "Prop it open 'n' we'll get 'im outside. But be very quiet. Hann'bal's got good hearin' even when he's deep 'sleep." He glanced up the stairway to make sure they didn't have anyone watching. Dani opened the door and held it open with a brick they had used as a door stop when they first arrived.

Picking up their ends of the cot, they navigated the doorway and set the cot on the veranda for a few seconds while Dani closed the door and got the passenger's side door of the Bronco open.

"Now prop him up and let me get hold o' his wrist." Dani put her forearms under the older man's armpits and lifted him up. Gripping McKeever's right wrist with his left hand and slinging his arm over his right shoulder, Murdock squatted down to place his right hand between his father's legs and around his right thigh.

Slowly rising to his feet and ignoring his dizziness, he shifted his father's position until the man was lying evenly across his back.

"Jus' watch so I don' trip now, darlin'," Murdock panted.

Even with McKeever as emaciated as he was, the few steps to the waiting vehicle were almost too much for the pilot.

After laying his father across the seat, Murdock clutched the truck door for a few seconds and lowered his head. As Dani stopped beside him, he grimaced at the dull pain in his rib cage.

_Damn! I hope I didn't jus' make it worse 'gain. _

"You okay, hon?" She moved until she could look at his rapidly paling face. With a frown she mumbled, "No, you're not. Here. Let's get you up in the seat."

She moved McKeever's legs and upper torso so that he was in a half-sitting position, then helped Murdock up into the truck.

As soon as he was seated, his father's head propped on his shoulder, the pilot let his head rest on the back of the seat with eyes closed.

"'Fore ya get in, darlin', go fetch my duffel bag." He watched out of half-lidded eyes as she followed his instructions.

Pressing the button to open the glove compartment, he reached for McKeever's .357 Magnum he had relocated to the truck when no one was looking.

Tucking it in his jacket pocket, he murmured to his unconscious father, "See. I keep my word, Pa. Ya ain' gonna die 'lone. Not if I can do anythin' 'bout it."


	149. Chapter 149 Unanswered Questions

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 149 Unanswered Questions

Face woke to the smell of coffee brewing. Rolling onto his back on the couch and dropping the blanket to the floor as he did, he looked down at his pants and noticed the wrinkles. He groaned, realizing that was the last decent pair of pants he had brought with him on this mission. Maybe Cyndy had an iron he could use to make them halfway presentable again.

_What time is it anyway? _

He squinted toward the kitchen where Cyndy was moving from the table to the stove and back again. A white terry bathrobe framed her figure. Its hem ended mid thigh and Face drank in her long lean legs. He wracked his brain trying to remember what exactly happened the past evening.

_Couldn't have been much if I still have my pants and shirt on. _

He was surprised at himself that the thought brought him relief. Ordinarily, he would have been wondering why his charm hadn't resulted in a prolonged visit to the lady's boudoir.

He closed his eyes quickly when she glanced his way. He wanted . . . no, needed . . . more time to figure out why the lady was barefoot and in a bathrobe like she just stepped out of the shower and he was still clothed except for his tie, suit jacket and shoes. A slight throbbing in his temples reminded him of the amount of champagne he had imbibed at the closing night party.

_Too bad Murdock and Dani couldn't have . . . oh crap! Hannibal's going to have my head for this. _

He put a hand to his forehead and groaned.

"Good morning, Temp. I didn't think my couch was _that _uncomfortable." She was standing directly in front of him, offering him a blue coffee mug. "Mind if I sit down?"

Face swung his legs over the edge of the couch and looked around on the floor for his Italian loafers. "What time is it, angel?"

"About six in the morning."

_Double crap! Hannibal's not only going to have my head; he's going to barbecue me, too. _

She sipped her coffee, peering at him as she did, then smiled as she set the cup on an end table. Tucking her feet up under her and kneeling on the couch cushions beside him, she leaned toward him to kiss him on the cheek. The front of her robe gaped open exposing a good amount of her cleavage.

Gulping, he set his cup on the coffee table in front of him and turned toward her. Sweeping a hand through his hair to smooth it back into place, he frowned. "Uh, you're going to think this is a strange question. Coming from me, it is, . . . but . . . what exactly happened last night? Did we . . . ?"

Her expression was confused at first. "Did we . . . ?" Her eyes widened and she gasped. "No. Of course not. I mean, I love you but I have limits to what I'll do."

"Then what _did_ we do?" He could tell from the growing disbelief on her face that he was close to making her angry.

_How do I smooth this over so she doesn't explode? _

"It's just that you're unlike any other woman I've ever known and I don't want to hurt you in any way. I don't want to force you into something you're not ready for. I didn't, did I?" He was being truthful, another something in which he was an amateur.

_Maybe that's the reason I'm off my game. _

"Nothing that I didn't allow you to do, if you really need to know. Honestly, Temp, I didn't know you were _that _drunk or I would have brought you right back to the farmhouse." She clutched the lapels of her robe and closed them around her throat with one hand. Shifting her body away from him, she picked up her blue cup with her other hand and held it without drinking any of its contents.

Through the seconds of awkward silence that followed, the Lieutenant tried to figure out a way to defuse the irritation she was displaying toward him.

Finally she broke the quiet. "So can I believe what you told me last night?" she asked timidly, staring down into the cooling coffee in the mug.

_How can I answer if I don't remember? _

"Uh . . . well, sure, you can believe me. I wouldn't lie to you, angel." He gulped, hoping that was what she needed to hear.

"So when I come out to L. A. for Christmas, you'll take me to watch the Tournament of Roses parade? We'll go on the Universal Studios tour and go to Disneyland?" She stole a sideways glance at him and took a sip of coffee.

_That's it? Just that? Sure. I can be a great tour guide. _

But somehow he didn't think that was all they discussed the previous night. "I would be happy to do all of that for you and more, sweetheart." He flashed her his trademark smile and was puzzled when she continued staring into her cup.

_There's more? What more did I promise? _

He had an uneasy feeling about that.

"You said you wanted to get to know me a lot better before you followed through on any marriage plans." She shot him a tearful look and caught her lower lip between her teeth. "When you talked about marriage, were you serious? Or was that the champagne speaking?"

The telephone rang. Cyndy stared at Face for only a second longer before setting down her cup and hurrying to answer it.

"Hello? This is Cyndy . . . oh, it's you, Hannibal . . ."

_Just what I needed. Hannibal checking up on me. But at least it'll give me time to sort out what I have to say to Cyndy. _

"Temp? He wants to talk to you." She held out the receiver to him, the disappointment obvious in her expression. Taking the phone from her, he brushed his lips against hers and whispered, "We'll talk about this a little later. I promise."

She gave him a doubtful look as he held the receiver to his chest.

Face smiled to reassure her. "I love you. Don't forget that."

Nodding, she retreated to the couch to allow him some privacy.

"Yeah, what's up, Colonel?" The smile left his face and his cheeks reddened slightly. "The lack of sleep must've finally caught up with me. I can get out there . . ." He paused as the voice on the other end continued.

Cyndy noticed the look of concern as Face sputtered, "I'll start looking right away, Hannibal. But where do you think I should start?" He listened for a few minutes longer. "I'll begin with the Beaumont hotels . . . right . . . they'll be driving the white Bronco . . . I'll let you know . . . Okay, bye."

"What was that all about?" Cyndy got to her feet as Face approached the couch, glancing around to locate his suit jacket, tie and shoes.

"Murdock, Dani and McKeever have disappeared. Hannibal woke up to go to relieve B. A. at the hospital and found the cot on the veranda and the truck missing." He slid his feet into his loafers. Cyndy helped him into his jacket.

"Let me get dressed. I'll go with you." She handed him his tie and ran to the bedroom to change.

As he stuffed the tie in his pants pocket, he paced the floor.

"I'm ready. Let's go." She appeared beside him within a couple of minutes and took his hand. "Don't worry. We'll find them."

He nodded absently, his mind still swirling from the question he had left unanswered and the urgency of locating Dani, the pilot and his father.


	150. Chapter 150 Hallowed Ground

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 150 Hallowed Ground

Dani shook her head as she watched Murdock, dressed in a light blue shirt and red and navy diagonally striped tie, hold the exit door open with one foot and back out with the wheelchair. Moments later he had the chair folded and ready for transport. She heard the thud as he heaved it up into the truck bed and slammed the tailgate shut.

"How'd you do that?" She glanced at him as he tugged on his bomber jacket over the dress shirt and pulled himself up into the truck.

"I'm back, Pa," he murmured. He gently gathered his father into his arms again, letting McKeever's head rest on his left shoulder.

"Do what, darlin'?" he asked, eyebrows raised, an innocent expression on his face.

"How did you manage to borrow a wheelchair from the hospital without any questions?"

Murdock let his lips curl into a sly smirk. "Faceman ain' the only one can run a scam. Trade secret. Can' tell."

Starting the engine, she steered the truck toward the parking lot exit. "Which way?" He pointed to the left and she eased the Bronco onto Harrison Avenue.

Directing her to take another left on North Fourteenth Street, they soon came to Calder Avenue. He silently pointed to the right. As they passed the I-10 abutment where Hannibal and she had found him with her gun in his hand, she shuddered. His somber mood frightened her then and it was doing the same now.

"Where are we going, H. M.?" When he didn't answer immediately, she peeked over at him.

His gaze was distant as he stared at the buildings they were passing. "To Sour Lake. I'll tell ya where t' turn."

She heard him mutter under his breath to McKeever, "We're gonna stop 'n' see some folks ya need t' say goodbye to. Like ya wanted. Okay, Pa?"

"Your father isn't in any condition to talk to anyone." Dani shot a surprised look at the pilot.

"He don' hafta. They'll know what's in 'is mind. 'Sides, I promised I'd do this for 'im." He glanced at her and pointed to the left. "Turn here on Phelan Boulevard."

She shrugged and made the turn as requested. "I thought we were going to Sour Lake." She could see they were headed out of Beaumont but it wasn't the route that would take them to Grayburg Road.

"We are. We're jus' goin' by way o' the back door." He turned his head toward the passenger's side window as if to avoid further conversation.

"Okay. You know what you're doing." She gripped the steering wheel tighter and sighed, worried about his sullen attitude.

"Turn in here." He directed her to park on the street beside a florist's shop. "Watch Pa for me for a sec, wouldja, darlin'?" he asked as he eased the unconscious man toward her and stepped out of the truck.

Minutes later he emerged from the shop. A grapevine wreath encircled his right arm. In his left hand he clutched three bouquets of pink roses and baby's breath and a single red rose. He carefully placed the three flower arrangements and the wreath on the dashboard before getting back into the truck.

Giving her an apologetic smile, he took his father into his arms again and presented Dani with the red rose. "This one's for you, angel. I know you don' understan' what I'm tryin' t' do but thanks for helpin' me 'n' Pa anyway." She breathed in the fragrance of the flower and smiled at him. His eyes flickered over her face for a moment, drinking in the love he saw in her gaze.

Then his attention turned back to his father who was muttering unintelligible things under his breath. Letting McKeever slump against him, Murdock motioned for Dani to turn out onto Phelan Boulevard again.

Passing through a residential zone, they soon came to an area with open fields on the right and a few homes scattered here and there on the left. Minutes later, the houses disappeared to leave nothing but railroad tracks, trees and fields.

Thirty minutes from the time they left the Beaumont hospital, Murdock straightened in his seat and peered ahead. "Slow down, darlin', slow down." The pilot's anxious voice broke the silence.

"Here! Turn t' the right."

"But this is a cemetery."

"Please, angel, jus' do it." His pleading tone coupled with his troubled gaze persuaded her. She slowed and edged the Bronco between fieldstone pillars that marked the main entrance to Rosedale Cemetery.

Stopping at the intersecting dirt road through the graveyard, she waited for him to give further instructions but he was already out of the truck.

Walking quickly to the back, he opened the tailgate and slid the wheelchair out. Dani joined him as he wheeled it to the passenger's side.

"Let me help you." She set the brakes on the wheelchair and held it as Murdock eased his father's limp body from the cab of the pickup into the seat and strapped him in. Placing the three bouquets in McKeever's lap, he paused and leaned over to gaze up into his father's face. "We're here, Pa. Jus' like I promised ya." He patted the older man's hand and straightened to take the handles of the chair.

"Do you want me to come with you or should I stay here?" He seemed so determined in his actions, she wasn't sure she would get an answer. When he turned toward her, she flinched. His scowl told her how important and painful this visit was for him.

"This is kinda personal. If ya wouldn' mind lettin' us do this alone, I'd 'ppreciate it." Seeing her stricken look, he hugged her close to himself and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. Gazing into her eyes, he promised, "We won' be long."

Undoing the brakes, he turned to the right and pushed the chair down the dirt road several yards. Dani strolled to the gazebo just ahead of the truck and sat down on a small bench to wait.

She watched as he rolled the chair across the neatly clipped grass to three small headstones halfway down one of the rows. He turned the wheelchair to face the trio of markers and set the brakes. Kneeling in front of the stones, he swept away some dirt and dry grass clippings from the caretaker's mowing which clung to the stone faces. Removing his cap, he weeded encroaching grass from around the concrete bases before settling back and bowing his head.

For several seconds he was motionless. Then his lips moved as he touched each marker in turn, tracing the words with the pointer finger of his right hand.

She couldn't hear what he was saying from that distance but he seemed to be reading the inscriptions to his father. As he finished reading each one, he took a bouquet from McKeever's lap and laid it on the concrete base of the marker.

He gripped his father's hand and remained in that position, saying something, his head bowed again. She thought she saw his shoulders shake slightly as he finished. Then he clasped his hands together in his lap and sat, quietly staring at the stones.

Her eyes misted with tears.

Moments later she squinted with surprise at the man in the wheelchair as he stretched his trembling hand out to rest on Murdock's shoulder. If the pilot was surprised, he didn't show it. He reached up and clasped it a few seconds before wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket and standing up.

He bent and spoke a few words to McKeever, then undid the brakes on the chair and wheeled it back toward the truck.

Dani waited for a few minutes before leaving the gazebo. By the time she joined the father and son, Murdock already had McKeever seated in the truck and the wheelchair folded and placed in the back. She tried to ignore the droplets on the cheeks of both men.

Silently, she stepped up into the driver's seat and put the key in the ignition. As the engine started, she looked at Murdock for directions.

"Back to Beaumont, darlin'," he rasped, holding his father in his arms and turning his head away. "Let's find a motel room where we can rest 'n' wait."


	151. Chapter 151 Lodging For Three

Death Waits In the Wings

AN: The street names are real but the names of any motels are fictitious.

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 151 Lodging For Three

The phone in Face's Corvette rang just as the Lieutenant made a pass through the parking lot of the Sundowner Motel on the outskirts of Beaumont.

"Better answer it, Angel. The only ones who would be calling me on this line are Hannibal, B. A. or Murdock. Hopefully, it's Murdock."

_But I doubt it._

Face pulled over into a part of the lot not easily seen from the street while Cyndy answered it.

_I don't know why I'm getting so paranoid about being seen. I guess Winton's threat is beginning to make me jumpy. I bet Hannibal's feeling the same way. _

"Hello? . . . Sure, Hannibal. He's here . . . no, we're still looking . . . here's Temp." She frowned and sadly shook her head as she handed the phone to Face. He recognized what the gesture meant and groaned internally.

_He hasn't found them either. Where _**_are_**_ you, buddy? _

"Yeah, Hannibal? We've visited at least ten motels along I-10 south of Beaumont. We haven't seen McKeever's Bronco anywhere . . . We'll drop by the hospital and relieve B. A. Maybe he'll have better luck . . . When do you want me to give that testimony to Hollis Latreque? . . . Okay, I'll hold off until we find Murdock." He gave the phone back to Cyndy and swung the Corvette out of the parking lot and toward the hospital. Swiping a hand through his hair, he fumed for a few seconds in silence before giving voice to his anxious thoughts.

"I don't like this, Cyndy. If we get the authorities out looking for McKeever, they'll find Murdock as well. We don't know what state of mind he's in. And if we don't head back to California soon, Winton will be released, find out what we're up to and clue the authorities in to who we are. Then we'll be in more trouble than you can imagine." He heard her sigh and glanced at her. She stared out the window, tears forming in her eyes.

Without having to ask why she was so unhappy, he realized she wasn't quite ready to say goodbye yet.

_Neither am I, but what choice do we have? _

"I know you might have to take off in a hurry. I don't want to see you get arrested because you stayed to be with me. But I don't want to see you go either." She kept her focus on the scenery they were passing. A tear trickled down her cheek and splashed onto her blouse. At that moment, he wanted to take her in his arms and tell her he wanted to settle down with her forever.

_There has to come a day when I can stop running. _

"We'll still have that talk before I have to leave." He saw her nod and clasp her hands together in her lap. Looking at her, he thought about how much he wanted to uproot her from this area and bring her out to L. A. to be with him.

_Or I could stay here and try to change my identity enough to live a normal life. _

"I promise, Cyndy." She nodded again and gave him a faint smile.

_I hope I'm able to keep that promise. _

oooooo

Murdock sang softly to himself and his father as Dani drove back into Beaumont via Phelan Boulevard. She could catch only a small part of what he was singing. It sounded familiar.

McKeever's lips were moving in response to the tune but the only sound he made was a rough whisper. The pilot noticed and sang a little louder.

_Oh you tak' the high road and I'll tak' the low road  
_ _An' I'll be in Scotland afore ye, _  
_But me and my true love will never meet again _  
_On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomon'. _

As he finished the chorus, Dani turned right on Kennedy Drive and then onto East Caldwood Drive. "What were you singing?" she murmured.

Murdock's cheeks turned pink. "Somethin' Gramma 'n' Grampa used t' sing all the time when I was growin' up. Pa used t' sing it sometimes, too, when he was real drunk 'n' came t' see me after Ma died." He shifted in his seat and gazed into his father's face, a wistful smile on his lips. "Didn'tcha Pa?" The smile left his face and he swallowed. "Jus' 'fore he'd beat on me."

She could see he hadn't remembered that part of the memory until now. She shot him an anxious glance but he was already forcing himself to forget the painful thought. "That's terrible! You okay?"

He frowned at her. "Sure. Why wouldn' I be? The song's one o' the things Pa 'n' I can 'member t'gether." He pointed at the bridge ahead that passed over several railroad tracks. "Soon as we get over the bridge yer gonna look for College Street 'n' hang a left. There's a li'l motel 'bout half a mile from there we can stay."

"You're still sure you want to do this? We can go back to the farm right now and . . . "

Murdock slammed his hand against the dashboard, making Dani flinch. "No!" He straightened in the seat, clutching his father in his arms. "Hanniball'l send 'im 'way. He don' care 'bout no promise I made." He took a deep breath to control his anger. "Look. Jus' get us set up in a motel room. Then ya can go or stay, whatever ya want. Jus' help me keep my promise."

The nurse chewed on her lower lip as she turned on College Street. She was certain leaving him alone with his father to wait for him to die was _not_ a good idea. Maybe there would be an opportunity to make a call to Hannibal, Face or B. A. without Murdock knowing. Or maybe she could eventually persuade him to let them know where they were. She would have to try.

"Turn here." The pilot motioned to a gated entrance.

Beside the gate a white sign with only part of its letters outlined in red neon lights indicated this was the Happy Siesta Motor Lodge. Making the turn, Dani parked the truck by the tiny office building just inside the gate. She cast critical eyes on their surroundings and shook her head.

The pavement of the inner courtyard looked as if it had not been redone for decades. Weeds grew in the multiple cracks. Twenty motel units in three rows encircled the center court. The only other vehicles in the lot were two older model station wagons parked in front of two of the units opposite them.

She caught his sleeve before he could leave the truck. "Do you want me to come in with you?"

"Are ya gonna stay?" His eyes met hers. She saw fear and pain in them. And maybe hope, too.

"You're going to need help if his condition gets worse. And you should have someone watch that gunshot wound for any more signs of infection." Her voice softened and she kept her eyes on his, letting him know she loved him and supported him in what he felt he had to do.

Murdock nodded and adjusted his father's body in the seat before opening the door. "Hope Pa'll be alright by 'imself for a few minutes. That is, 'less ya wanna watch 'im 'gain for me." Raising his eyebrows at her, he grabbed his duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder.

"I can stay here with him. I don't mind. You have enough money to afford a room? If you don't, I have some money with me." Dani let McKeever's head rest on her shoulder as she responded.

He shook his head, a grim smile on his face. "I got 'nough for the three o' us for least one night. Should be all I'll need. Right?" Without waiting for an answer, he stalked to the motel office and let its screen door slam behind him.

A little over five minutes later, he left the building and walked along the first row of rooms. Stopping in front of a unit marked with the number four, he turned the key in the lock and opened the door.

She took in a deep breath as he motioned for her to park the Bronco in front of the unit. Together, they eased McKeever into the wheelchair.

Backing in with Dani following them, Murdock brought the chair up to one of the double beds and pulled back the top coverlet. As he began to undo the safety straps to lift the older man out of the chair and onto the bed, the nurse glanced around the rented room.

The unit interior had seen much better years. Nubby orange and green fleck carpeting, stained in some places, covered the floor of the main room. A worn path marked the high traffic areas from the door to the beds and bathroom. The stale odor of cigarettes permeated the air. A hole in the dark brown paneling at the level of the doorknob showed where the main door had slammed against the wall one too many times.

Murdock covered his father up to his chest with a faded olive green quilted bed spread, talking to him in a quiet voice the entire time.

Dani wandered to the bathroom and poked her head around the door. Seeing the broken tiles on the floor, the cracked black-spotted mirror and the shower curtain missing two of its hooks, she sighed. "Not exactly the honeymoon suite," she muttered under her breath.

"I know it ain' much, darlin', but I used t' clean these units t' earn extra money durin' the summer." She hadn't heard him come up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed the top of her head. Swaying slightly back and forth with her in his arms, he added, "Same people still own this place. They used t' give me refuge sometimes after Pa's beatin's. They were as surprised t' see me as I was t' see them. They're gettin' old, in their 80s, can't do much t' renovate but don' wanna get rid o' it either."

"Do they know why you needed a room?" Dani pulled away and turned to look up into his eyes.

He shrugged and gazed over his shoulder at the bed where his father was. "What they don' know won' hurt 'em."

"Is that fair to them?"

When he looked at her, she wished she hadn't spoken. His eyes reflected so much of his inner anguish it was as if he was the one dying. His voice shook as he said, "No, prob'ly not. But way I see it, I got no choice. Do I?"


	152. Chapter 152 Poison Pill

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 152 Poison Pill

Murdock tossed his duffel bag on the unoccupied double bed and opened it. Dani leaned against the wall beside the bathroom door and watched his increasingly frenzied movements. She heard enough of his muttered words to know he was hunting for something that should be there but wasn't.

Comic books, rolled up socks, a yo-yo, several packs of gum, neatly folded khakis, all came out of the bag to be scattered on the bed in front of him. Finally he stood and dumped out all of the remaining contents. After another furious search of the items, he sat hunch-shouldered at the foot of the bed.

For several seconds he stared in angry stunned silence at his possessions. Then, "Damn Hann'bal! Son o' bitch wen' through my bag."

Dani blinked at the curses and wondered why Hannibal had violated Murdock's privacy in such a way.

_He wouldn't have done that without a good reason. _

Murdock's breaths were coming in short enraged bursts as he threw his belongings back into the duffel. All the while, he muttered a string of obscenities Dani never heard him use before. She needed to find something to break the uncomfortable tension in the room. Whatever H. M. had not found in his bag, it was important enough to him that he was quickly losing control over his anger.

She was fairly certain he would not become violent. It had been weeks since he had to be restrained back at the V. A. hospital. She remembered that last time very well.

It was the Fourth of July. The residents were finishing their lunch.

Face strode into the day room to take Murdock back to his place, a scammed high rise studio apartment, so he could watch the fireworks from the balcony. Dani knew about it and would join them after her shift. Winking at Dani and holding a finger to his lips, he obviously intended to surprise the pilot. He quietly approached Murdock where he sat staring out of the window, most of his uneaten meal pushed away. The conman touched him on the shoulder and the pilot turned to see who was disturbing his reverie.

At just the wrong moment, Decker and two MPs entered the room to question the pilot about the A-Team. She remembered her shock over the Colonel's audacity and timing. Face had his back to the door but Murdock saw Dani's reaction and then the approaching danger. A wild glint came into his eyes and he moved.

To be honest, Murdock didn't physically harm anyone during the ensuing incident. As Face glanced from side to side looking for a way to escape, the pilot improvised a diversion. Rushing to the orderly serving a tray of pudding in Styrofoam bowls to the assembled residents, he threw the desserts at the feet of Decker and his men. The conman eased his way around Decker and the slipping, sliding MPs as they all ended up in a jumbled sloppy mess on the floor of the day room.

With a scream, Murdock, brandishing a plastic fork and stabbing the air, climbed up on one of the tables. "Worms!" he shouted in mock terror. "They put worms in the puddin'. They're gonna grow inside us 'n' rip our guts out when they get big 'nough." While the room erupted in chaos, Face escaped out the door and from the building.

She smiled as she remembered the scene. It was almost humorous at the time but it wasn't very pleasant for either of them afterward. The head nurse injected the still screaming pilot with haloperidol to calm him down. A team of orderlies with a gurney whisked him away to the padded isolation room. Dani couldn't stop any of that, nor would he have wanted her to. Face's safety was topmost in his mind.

Dani herself was reprimanded for not reacting in a manner that assisted in containing the disturbance. Knowing why Murdock was acting the way he was, she tripped Decker when he tried to get on his feet to pursue Face. The head nurse observed her doing it. Thus the reprimand.

She couldn't visit Murdock while he was isolated. When he was returned to the ward, his clouded eyes and tremors after successive doses of haloperidol hurt her deeper than the loneliness she felt while they could not be together. For several late nights after the incident she held him when she was able to do so unnoticed. He had terrifying hallucinatory dreams as a side effect to the anti-psychotic drug. He trembled in her arms while his room became a jungle and vines became snakes that restrained him and tore at his chest until his heart was exposed.

Shivering slightly, Dani strolled over to the television on the table and switched it on. A Woody Woodpecker laugh came from the speaker just before the manic bird appeared on the screen in black, white and gray. She stood with her arms crossed, thankful for the cartoon that was being shown. It was one of H. M.'s favorites.

_Maybe it'll take his mind off his father for a little while and help him calm down. He's so much on edge I don't know what'll happen or how he'll react when his father dies. _

"Turn it off." The three words were short but impassioned. He pitched his duffel bag beside the bed and stood glaring at her, his hands curled into fists. On the screen, Buzz Buzzard gripped Woody by the neck. In a few steps, Murdock was beside her, reaching around her for the power button. The images on the screen disappeared into black.

She turned to him in disbelief. "I just thought . . . "

"No, you _didn't think_!" he snarled, his face inches from hers. The heat of his rage was so intense, she shrank from him. The fire left his eyes when she backed up and stumbled against the table. Anguish returned to his face. Moments later, he enveloped her in his arms and murmured, "I'm sorry, darlin'. I'm sorry" into her ear.

She trembled in his embrace as he rocked her back and forth and repeated his whispered fervent apologies. His shoulders shook and his breathing became labored. He was crying, something he would not do in front of her unless the strain of the situation was becoming too much for him.

She took a deep breath and held him tightly until he regained control. When he was ready, he pulled back and cupped her face in his hand to be sure she had forgiven him. Only then did he resume his vigil by his father's semi-conscious form.

He sat in the bedside chair and clutched his head in his hands as if his brain would explode from grief. Lifting his head, he gazed with tormented eyes at his father's face for several seconds. Then he began to softly tell his father about the terrors of crashing a Huey in the bowels of the jungle and finding himself the only survivor.

She would have to find an excuse to leave the motel room for a few moments.

_But can I? Look at him. Those stories are tearing away at him just as much as his father's dying is. What will I find when I come back to the room? But I can't handle him by myself. I've got to get hold of Hannibal. _

If he dozed off, maybe she could use the phone in the room.

_I wish I had some of Hannibal's novocaine or etomidate about now. That would knock him out long enough for me to get help._

Quietly she made her way to the vacant bed to wait and pray he did get sleepy so she could make her move.


	153. Chapter 153 Changing Plans

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 153 Changing Plans

His voice broke as he talked, even though he tried to keep most of the monologue a calm murmur.

"I looked over t' Jase Hammett, my peter pilot, t' see if he saw what I was seein' . . . 'N' then all hell broke loose."

_Jase. How long's it been? Got an early flight back home from what Bart said. Forgot all 'bout 'im 'til it was too late t' see 'im 'gain. Poor kid's dead now. _

For a moment, he frowned down at the floor, the last memory of Jase fresh like yesterday in his mind. Stopping to swallow his regret, he fiercely swiped the sleeve of his jacket across his eyes. The leather was moist when he drew his arm away.

_Too many friends 'n' family dead. 'N' now Pa. When's it gonna end, all this dyin' 'roun' me? _

Swallowing again, he forced the words to come out. "Whole cockpit window came in on top o' us from the groundfire. Jase was bleedin' from the shoulder 'n' I had a bullet, came up through the floor and inta my leg." He couldn't prevent his hand from wandering to the back of his thigh and rubbing it as if it still burned red hot from the gunshot wound.

He heard Dani shift her position on the bed behind him and realized she hadn't heard any of this before. Fearing the nightmares would return, he never told her.

"'N' that's all I 'member. My door gunner tol' me the rest." He stared at his father's face but it wasn't his face he was seeing. The faces of the men who fired the shots, the ones who almost succeeded in bringing his chopper down in the jungle, glared back at him with hatred in their eyes.

_Do I wanna tell 'im the rest o' the story? Tell 'im 'bout the voices that taunted me in my sleep 'most every night? Let 'im know 'bout all the memories came back t' haunt me? _

He heard the rustling of the bed cover behind him and then felt Dani's hands massaging his shoulders. Relaxing into her touch, he became aware of how tight his muscles had become with the retelling of the story.

"Why don't you take off your jacket and I'll give you a back rub?" she whispered in his ear. Kissing his neck, she began to work his right sleeve down. Her warm breath and tender touch tempted him and he closed his eyes, letting himself drift in her hypnotizing presence.

McKeever mumbled in his semi-conscious delirium. Hearing it, Murdock jerked away and hunched his jacket up over his shoulders.

_Can't risk 'er findin' the stuff in the pockets. Keep yer focus, Captain._

"I'm fine, darlin'. I'm fine," he muttered. He sighed as she backed away to her previous place on the bed.

_I gotta keep some secrets safe, darlin'. Can' letcha know everythin'. _

His father's eyes opened into slits and his whisperings became more fervent. Murdock leaned forward to take McKeever's hand in his until the older man relaxed again.

"Maybe your father would like to hear about the time Face came to get you and you had to pretend you had a bad case of tuberculosis." Her voice sounded soft and timid.

_So that's it. She's worried I'm gonna go nuts on 'er or somethin' from 'memberin' this stuff. _

He shook his head. "Pa didn' wanna hear 'bout the las' ten years. He wanted t' hear 'bout how . . . brave . . . I was over there. Huh. Brave? I was scared shitless most o' the time. All o' us were."

Scrubbing at the bridge of his nose with his hand, he chuckled bitterly at the memory. He yawned and wiped his eyes of their drowsiness.

"You sound tired. If you want to take a short nap, I can watch him for a while. I'll wake you up in a hurry if anything changes with him." He sensed her gaze on his back.

"I'd love t' take ya up on that . . . but he's my responsibility. Tell ya what ya _can_ do." He twisted around to look at her and felt a sharper stab in his ribs than he had noticed earlier.

_Shit. I musta pulled somethin' in there 'gain with all the liftin' I been doin'. _

He tried to control his breathing over the pain and pasted on a lopsided smile. "Ya can go fin' some coffee 'n' bring it back here. Maybe some donuts, too. You'd like that, wouldn'tcha, chica?"

She began to protest, glancing at the man on the bed and him in turn.

_She don' trust me. Can' blame 'er. Haven't 'xactly given her reason, the stunts I been doin' last few days. _

He clutched his belly with one hand and groaned. "We ain' had any breakfast yet 'n' my stomach's 'bout ready t' let out a rumble big 'nough t' shake this room."

_C'mon, sweetie. I needja outta here t' do what I gotta do._

She pursed her lips and leaned back against the pillows. Folding one arm under her head, she gazed at him. "How do I know you won't do something while I'm gone?"

He lurched to his feet and began to pace back and forth. "Aw, fer cryin' out loud, Dani. What'm I gonna do? Use the sheets t' hang myself? Or him? Be reasonable."

Stopping in front of the bed where she was, he jabbed his finger at her and fumed, "You don' trust me."

Her silent scrutiny confirmed his words. The piercing look she gave him distressed him almost as much as his father's rising restlessness.

_He's gotta be in a lotta pain now 'n' she's arguin' over who goes fer coffee 'n' donuts? _

Letting out a frustrated sigh and grabbing his cap from the bedside table, he held his hand out. "'Kay! I'll go. Gimme the keys."

"Getting away for a few minutes will do you some good, H. M. You'll see." She fished around in her purse until she found McKeever's set of keys. Getting to her feet, she eased her arms around his waist and nestled her head against his chest. He flinched when her embrace pressed the gun and the syringe and vial stored in his pockets against his ribs.

_Did she notice? She had t'of noticed. _

But she moved her arms in the next moment so they were under his jacket and closer to his body. For a few seconds she lingered in that position before giving him a tender kiss. Stepping back she took his hand and pressed the keys into it. "He'll be fine until you get back. I'll make sure he's comfortable, okay?"

He nodded, his mind already coming up with an alternate plan.

_Think I know how I'm gonna do it, too. _

A pang of remorse settled in his chest as he gazed into her eyes. "One last kiss 'fore I go?" he asked. He cupped her face between his hands and covered her lips with his. She seemed stunned and almost breathless as he drew back and walked to the door.

"Hurry back," she whispered. He pretended he didn't hear. He might lose his nerve if he acknowledged her words.

_She'll have lotsa reason not t' trust me if this works. Jus' hope ya can forgive me for what I'm 'bout t' do, angel. _


	154. Chapter 154 Call For Help

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 154 Call For Help

Dani waited until she heard Murdock start the Bronco's engine before draping another blanket over the man in the bed and sitting in the chair. Observing McKeever's chest spasmodically rising and falling with labored breaths, she shook her head.

"I don't know how you've hung on for this long. What unfinished business keeps you alive? What more do you need to do, Mister McKeever?" she muttered under her breath.

His half-open eyes stared vacantly at the off-white plaster ceiling.

She had not expected him to respond. Not as close to death as he seemed to be.

It was true she did not see the bluish tinge to his fingertips or mottling of the skin that would indicate his blood was circulating more to his vital organs than his extremities. That would signal McKeever's end was within minutes or hours.

"I don't know if you realize this but what you're asking your son to do is quickly undoing several years of therapy and treatment. Those memories you're forcing him to relive almost destroyed him once." She hesitated, then spat, "No, not just those memories. You! _You _almost destroyed him and now you're back in his life to finish the job? What is it? You found his vulnerable point and you're going to keep pressing it until he kills himself? _What kind of a hateful bastard are you?_"

Something between a laugh and a gurgle escaped the man's lips. His eyelids flickered and his eyes shifted toward her for a few seconds.

She caught her breath in surprise. "You understood what I said, _didn't you_?" She frowned as McKeever's gaze wandered back to the ceiling.

"Li'l wildcat," he murmured.

"What _is_ this to you? A game? Some twisted revenge? He didn't do _anything_ to deserve this." She stood and retrieved her purse from the bed. "I'm not going to lose H. M. to insanity. You may be more aware than you've been letting on but you _can't_ stop me from making a phone call for help."

He breathed out a raspy chuckle. "Go 'head," he whispered.

She dug through her purse for her wallet and unsnapped it. The business card for Mister Li's Laundry Services was in an inside pocket. On the back were two phone numbers.

Grabbing the receiver, she dialed the first number. While the phone rang, she kept a wary eye on the man in the bed. The hand he placed on Murdock's shoulder when they were visiting those graves and now this led her to believe her boyfriend was not the only good actor in the family.

No one answered Face's mobile phone after six rings. She tried the other number and gasped in relief when B. A. answered with a gruff, "Yeah?"

"B. A.? Is Hannibal with you? . . . Oh, thank God! . . . yes, yes, I'm fine . . . please, just let me talk to him . . . Hannibal?" She waited for the Colonel to take a breath from chewing her out before continuing. "Listen, I don't know how long H. M.'s going to be gone. If he knew I was calling you, I don't know what he'd do . . . Yeah, we're in Beaumont on College Street. It's a rundown motel called the Happy Siesta Motor Lodge. We're in number four . . . I'm scared. He's been losing his temper more often. He's so tense I'm afraid he's going to hurt someone. I think McKeever's been faking some of this and he's pushing H. M. to the edge." She closed her eyes. "Please, you have to help me . . . okay, I'll be waiting for you guys . . . And Hannibal? I'm almost positive he's carrying a gun . . . no, I don't know where he got it . . . yeah, bye."

She heard the key in the door a few minutes after she put the receiver back in its cradle on the desk. Standing up, she threw her purse onto the empty bed and went to meet Murdock as he entered the room bearing a bakery bag and one of the coffee cups.

_Please, Hannibal. Get here soon. I don't know how much more H. M. can take before he does something he'll regret for the rest of his life. _

oooooo

"Where to, Hannibal?" B. A. scowled at the passenger beside him in the van. "An' is the fool alright?"

Thinking Murdock may have persuaded Dani to take them as far as Port Arthur to avoid being found, Hannibal and B. A. were coming from there and checking all of the motels in Nederland as they returned.

The Colonel glowered, his eyes turning an angry steel gray. "They're at a dump called the Happy Siesta Motor Lodge. Get on US-69 north and keep on it until you see the exit for College Street."

"You didn't answer my question. Is the fool okay?" The Sergeant turned onto the freeway and pressed his foot down on the gas pedal.

"For now maybe. But Miss Scalatini isn't sure how long that will last. And B. A.?" The black man cast a worried glance at Hannibal. "Murdock may be armed."

B. A. clenched the steering wheel tighter. "Where'd the crazy man get a gun? You took 'way both Brownings after that night he ran away an' all the other weapons are accounted for last I knew. Locked up in the back of the van."

"We never confiscated McKeever's weapon from the barn loft. My fault. I should have secured it."

There was silence for a few seconds before B. A. mumbled, "All of us shoulda been watchin' him more after he tried what he did the second time. But things . . . they was happening so fast none of us could keep track of everything. Can't blame yourself, Colonel."

Hannibal stared out of the window, a grim expression on his face. "Rank has its privileges, B. A., not all of them enjoyable. I'm responsible for each of you and your safety. We just have to get there before Murdock does something crazy."

The Sergeant growled and increased his speed. For once he didn't feel like making a comment about the man's insanity. He was too concerned about the implications of what Hannibal said.

oooooo

Murdock knew there were shops closer to the motel than Sunrise Bakery where he could get a half dozen assorted glazed and chocolate covered donuts. The mom-and-pop run bakery had been a favorite of his grandparents and his when he was in high school.

He needed to know that some of the best things he remembered about home hadn't changed that much while he was away. The small shop did not disappoint him in that regard. It was like he was sixteen again and getting some treats for Gramma to share with him and Grampa before going to church.

_Always was one o' the best things 'bout a Sunday mornin'._

He felt guilty that he was going to use something so innocent as a freshly baked Sunrise Bakery donut to get Dani out of the way of his plan.

Placing the bag of donuts on the dashboard, he removed the vial of etomidate and the syringe from his pocket.

_Dani likes the chocolate ones with sprinkles 'n' there's only one o' those. Perfect! _

He was sure someone Dani's weight wouldn't require a full syringe of the anesthetic. Not like B. A. did.

_But how'm I gonna make sure she gets 'nough t' knock 'er out? _

He decided to use a play out of Hannibal's trick book for getting B. A. sedated for a plane or chopper ride. Humming to himself, he drew a half syringe full of etomidate and pocketed the vial.

_The rest's gotta be for Pa. He's sufferin' somethin' awful. Ain' morphine but it's the best I can do. Hope it takes care o' the pain. _

Holding the chocolate sprinkle donut in one hand, he carefully poked the needle into the cake part and injected about one-sixth of the contents into it. Slightly turning the donut he did the same thing all the way around until he was certain no matter where she took her first bite, she would ingest enough to put her to sleep for a while.

He tried not to think of how angry she would be when she woke and found out what he had done.

_But by then, Pa'll be dead. 'N' maybe she'll know why I had t' do it. _

That was another thought he wasn't willing to deal with yet. His father was beginning to act like a real father. And he was going to lose him soon.

_He put his hand on my shoulder out at the cemetery. He knew how much I was hurtin'. He cares. Finally he cares. He's been so interested in my war stories, what I did over there. Proud o' me. 'N' he's gonna die 'fore we can get t' know each other any better. _

He squeezed his eyes shut and banged his fist on the steering wheel several times until the pain in his hand matched the pain in his heart. In the early morning with so few people moving about, his action went unnoticed.

Only then did he start the engine and go to a gas station convenience store for two cups of strong coffee. Returning to the motel, he placed both cups and the bag on the cement sidewalk and fumbled the room key in the lock.

As he opened the door he forced a smile and handed her the bakery bag. "You're in luck, darlin'. Gotcha the last chocolate donut with sprinkles in the shop. 'N' it's all yours."

He felt like a jerk and even more so when she rewarded his thoughtfulness with a smile and a kiss.

_Hope she 'members how much she loves me when all this is done. _


	155. Chapter 155 Follow Through

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 155 Follow Through

Her grateful smile and tender kiss almost melted Murdock's resolve. For a second, with her so close, he thought about grabbing the bag from her hand and explaining later why she couldn't have the donut he bought especially for her.

_What if she eats too much of it? I didn' really know how much t' give 'er. _

Then he heard the slight rattling breath from the man in the bed. He shook his head to clear his thinking.

_I'm a jerk but it's gotta be done. _

Retrieving the second cup of coffee from where he left it on the concrete walkway outside the door, he gently nudged the door shut behind him. He watched as Dani carried the bag over to the vacant bed. Sitting with her legs up and knees bent, her back propped against pillows, she patted the space beside her and smiled. "Let's have some breakfast. Then we need to talk, H. M."

_We need t' talk? 'Bout what? Pa? _

For a moment he hesitated. They were in a motel room. She was inviting him to sit next to her on the bed.

_Ah, I betcha that's it! We're gonna have breakfast, and then . . . _

. . . it was the perfect opportunity for some uninterrupted time with her . . . except for Pa. Lately every thought he had came back to Pa.

Billy's voice whispered in his mind. _Ya need t' be careful o' Pa. 'Member what Gramma used t' say t' ya? A duck can be dressed up t' look like a rabbit but it's still a duck. _

He almost said, "Shut up" out loud, the voice was so insistent. Then he caught himself and glanced toward the nurse to see if she knew he was unraveling before her eyes. She cocked her head as he paused mid-room, his hands tightening around the styrofoam cups.

_Dani can't hear Billy. Bet Pa can't even hear 'im. Jus' me. It's always been jus' me can hear 'n' see 'im. _

Just to be sure, he stole a quick peek at his father. Startled, he froze and scrutinized the man more carefully. For a moment, he was certain that while he yelled at the voice in his head, his father had been staring directly at him with a smirk on his lips. But all he saw now was the unfocused gaze and slack facial features of a man close to death.

Ignoring Dani's puzzled look as she held the chocolate sprinkle donut in her hand, he stumbled toward the chair beside his father. Every step he took felt like he walked through a purple wobbly jello-like haze. He set the two cups on the bedside stand and leaned forward to examine McKeever more closely.

_Had t' of been seein' things. Right, Billy? Pa's dyin', ain' he? He ain' jus' leadin' me on, is he? _

For the first time since his father told him about the cancer that was rotting away his stomach, Murdock wondered if the man in the bed was faking some of his condition.

_Ya tol' yer brother t' shut up, boy. All you got's me now. 'N' I ain' gonna tell ya if he is 'r he ain'. _

That was the voice that sounded like his own father. He thought it had gone away.

_Gone 'way? Oh, no, boy! Not when the fun's jus' 'bout t' start. _

"What do you mean?" he forced out past dry lips that barely moved. He felt his heart thumping inside him and the voice chuckling.

From a distance, Dani asked, "Aren't you hungry, H. M.?"

_Hallucinatin'. Hearin' voices. Seein' things ain' there. Crazy fool. _

Then the father's voice in his head began to sing a song he hadn't thought about for a long time.

_One pill makes you larger  
'N' one pill makes you small  
'N' the ones that mother gives you  
Don' do anythin' at all  
Go ask Alice  
When she's ten feet tall. _

The voice laughed again and whispered, _So how many days now ya gone without yer meds? Ya need 'em, don' ya, t' stay anywhere near sane. _

"No." The single word was a rasp. He wasn't sure it came from his own mouth.

"Hon? What's going on?" He heard the bed covers behind him rustle. Moments later her arms snaked around his shoulders as she leaned heavily against the back of the chair. She still held the half-eaten donut in her hand.

Her breath brushed his neck as she stammered, "I . . . d . . . don't feel . . . so good."

The donut dropped into his lap and from there onto the floor. Her arms went limp and he felt her body slip to his right side. One hand skimmed the back of his neck. Her head thudded against the edge of the nightstand before she collapsed. His stomach lurched at the sound.

_Now's yer chance t' do what yer Pa wanted. Give 'im 'nough o' that stuff t' end 'is pain f'rever. _The voice reminded him of his promise. _This way's better 'n fire 'r a gunshot. More peaceful. _

His hand was shaking so badly, he could hardly find his jacket pocket to extricate what he needed. When he did, he knew he couldn't fill the syringe without something to steady himself.

_I wonder if Pa has anythin' in the truck I can drink, get a grip on my nerves. _

The voice thundered in his head. _Jus' do it. Ya never needed anythin' over in Nam t' carry out the Company's orders.'Member? _

The images were clawing their way to the surface of his brain, reopening scars and drawing blood. Brutalized Vietnamese citizens, their interrogators laughing as they shared a cigarette. A terrified scream fading as a body plummeted from the passenger's compartment of his chopper toward the South China Sea. Bloodied and bruised faces in seedy motel rooms with half of their heads suddenly splattered behind them on the wall. His own fist, bruised bloody knuckles showing him what he did. Henderson's purpling face as he gasped for his last breaths.

He whimpered without knowing he was doing it. Moments later he staggered to his feet and looked down at Dani's unconscious body.

_Jus' like yer Pa. Ya do bad things t' people ya love. Didn' even hafta get drunk t' do it this time. It's 'cause yer crazy. She deserves better 'n you, boy. _

He wanted to assure himself Dani was still breathing but he couldn't bend his knees to kneel beside her. Picking up the syringe and vial from the table, he stared down at his father, into his glinting eyes. Somehow he managed to insert the needle into the stopper. Pulling the plunger out, he filled the syringe and set the vial back down.

_Do it. Keep yer promise. Give 'im the easy way out. _

He paused. His father's eyes pleaded with him, his lips forming the words, "Do it, boy."

"No! I can't! _I can't!_" He stabbed the needle into his own belly before he could reconsider his move.

_I don' have very much more time. Kinda dose the Big Guy gets. What's it gonna do t' someone like me? _

"Sorry, Pa," he mumbled as his fingers opened and the syringe fell onto the bed. His legs no longer felt like they were a part of his body. His knees wobbled and bent. As he slumped to the floor he grasped his father's hand and collapsed half-on, half-off the bed.

A light sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead. His father's jeering face blurred in front of him. He felt paralyzed as the room became hotter, more humid, and the purple wobbly haze grew vining tendrils that caught at his arms and legs.

The voice gleefully sang the next line of the song.

_'N' if you go chasin' rabbits  
'N' you know you're gonna fall  
Tell 'em a hookah smokin' caterpillar  
Has given you the call to  
Call Alice  
When she was jus' small._

He thought he heard the screaming death throes of a rabbit from a distance. And his hand groped for the gun in his pocket.


	156. Chapter 156 Deadly Revenge

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 156 Deadly Revenge

Before they neared their destination, Hannibal fielded a phone call from Face. After hanging up, he took out a fresh cigar, chewed the end off and spat it out of the open window. Lighting up, he drew in several puffs before B. A. broke his contemplative silence.

"What's new with the Faceman an' Winton, Colonel?" The black man heard Hannibal's somber tone as he directed Face and Cyndy to go out to the farm and ready everything for a quick departure.

"Our blackmailing security guard is being released around noon. Doctor Freedman said he doesn't have reason to keep him in the hospital any longer and can't keep him against his wishes." Hearing B. A.'s low growl, Hannibal shrugged. "We knew this day would come. We'll just have to convince Murdock to see things our way so we can leave before all hell breaks loose."

That made B. A. grumble, "Sounds like we're gonna be runnin' for our lives again. Don't you ever get tired of that, Colonel?"

"Now, B. A. It wouldn't be any fun if we left without a parade of police cars or army vehicles escorting us, would it?" When Hannibal smiled, the Sergeant rolled his eyes and groaned.

"For once it'd be kinda nice."

The Colonel pointed out the window with his cigar. "There it is, B. A. The Happy Siesta Motor Lodge. Park on the street so they can't see the van. We don't want to announce our arrival and make Murdock more skittish than he already is." Hannibal shook his head and eyed the flaked paint exterior of the aged motel as B. A. parked a quarter of a block away. Removing the cigar from his mouth, he tapped the ashes out of the open window and surveyed what he could see of the units and the inner courtyard.

"Don't look like very many people stay here, Colonel. Seen better boarded up businesses in Englewood." The Sergeant stared gloomily in the same direction.

"Englewood?"

"South Side Chicago. Place I wouldn't go in the middle a day with a baseball bat t' protect me. Least that's how it was when I was growin' up." B. A. scowled. "People prob'ly don't even know this motel is still open the way it looks from the outside."

"Which is likely the exact reason our Captain chose this place. What it lacks in amenities, it makes up for in privacy." Hannibal unlocked the glove compartment and took out his Smith and Wesson. He checked to make sure it was loaded before tucking it in the back waistband of his pants.

B. A. frowned. "That's Murdock in there. Not some dude holdin' hostages." His gaze flickered over the strained expression on Hannibal's face.

"I won't use it unless I absolutely have to." The Colonel opened his door and quietly shut it again, discontinuing any further discussion.

The Sergeant cast a solemn look at the motel units beyond the arched entrance before checking his own weapon and following Hannibal up the sidewalk to the archway leading to the courtyard.

Unit number four was not difficult to see from the entrance. The white Bronco stood empty in front of the door. With one glance the two men observed that there were only two other occupied units at the far end of the courtyard. Nobody and nothing was moving.

Hannibal and B. A. kept to the walkway and close to the exterior walls as they approached the unit where Murdock, Dani and McKeever were staying.

The Colonel motioned for the Sergeant to wait beside the door opposite him. He reached over to rap lightly.

There was no sound. Hannibal rapped louder and put his ear to the door. Frowning at B. A., he tried the door and found it locked.

B. A. carefully scanned the window and discovered a small gap between the drapes and the window frame. Peering in, he hissed, "I see McKeever and Murdock but not Dani. Nobody's movin'. Looks like Murdock an' McKeever's both asleep. Somethin' don't seem right about the way the fool's positioned but I can't get a real good look."

When the Sergeant glanced his way, Hannibal was inserting a bent paper clip in the lock. After a few minutes of watching the older man twist and turn the wire to get the lock pins out of the way of the cylinder, B. A. grunted. "You don't got the special touch Faceman has, Colonel. Be easier if I just knocked it down. Stand back. Let me give it _my_ special touch."

Bracing his shoulder against the door for a moment, the burly man took a deep breath, shifted his weight onto his other foot and came at the door with all the force his body had. The door lock and hinges tore from the door jamb on either side and the door itself fell into the room with a crash.

"Nice, B. A." The Colonel grinned, picking his way through the splintered remains of the door jamb.

The younger man shrugged as he followed him into the room. "Toldya it'd be easier."

If anyone inside the unit heard the noise he made, they weren't responding. That was the first thing that set the internal alarms in Hannibal ringing. The second was the unnatural way McKeever stared without blinking at the ceiling.

B. A. drew in a sharp breath. "Hannibal." He moved toward the bed, putting his gun away as he went. Squatting between the beds, the Sergeant reached out with both arms. Seconds later he stood, Dani's limp body in his arms.

With more gentleness Hannibal thought him capable of, B. A. laid her on the vacant bed and tucked a pillow under her head. "She's bleedin', Colonel." He lightly touched a blood-matted portion of hair above her right ear and muttered something when she didn't react.

When he glanced back at Hannibal, he found him kneeling beside Murdock. Lying half on, half off the bed, the pilot's head rested on McKeever's stomach, his closed eyes directed toward his father's face. His left arm sprawled across McKeever's hips and loosely clutched the bed spread on the other side. The Colonel's fingers felt for a pulse in the pilot's neck.

The Sergeant frowned at the gun in Murdock's right hand and the barrel's position close to the older man's left temple. McKeever's right hand rested on top of the pilot's. It was as though the older man had placed his son's hand there and tried to force the curled finger to pull the trigger.

Hannibal breathed a sigh of relief and pulled himself up to sit beside Murdock on the bed. "His pulse is steady and strong. He doesn't seem physically injured in any new way."

The Colonel's steel blue eyes examined McKeever's frothed grimace and lifeless gaze. With one gloved hand he closed the eyelids before letting his hand rest between Murdock's shoulders. "Let's get him over on the other bed."

"What do ya make of that, Hannibal?" Motioning with his head toward the gun and its proximity to the dead man's skull, the black man's scowl deepened. "What happened here, Colonel?"

"My guess? A last attempt at revenge. I think McKeever was still so determined to destroy Murdock, he was going to make his own death look like his son murdered him." Hannibal moved both men's hands and pocketed the gun.

The Sergeant hooked his arms under the pilot's arms and pulled him away from McKeever's body and toward the bed where Dani lay. An empty syringe dropped to the floor and the Colonel picked it up. Seeing the half-eaten donut, he set his mouth in a firm line and tucked the syringe and the vial on the bedside table in his other pocket.

After settling Murdock on the bed beside Dani, B. A. cursed and said, "What kind of father'd do that?"

"To answer your question, Sergeant, the kind of father that was never a father." Hannibal shot another angry look at the corpse before moving to the other bed to care for his unconscious pilot and the injured woman beside him.

What they did after that was something he needed to consider.


	157. Chapter 157 Waking

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 157 Waking

Dani woke up from her unintended sleep before Murdock did.

With a small moan, she opened her eyelids halfway and cast confused glances around her. She was lying on her back fully clothed except for shoes. Sunlight streamed into the room from a window at the head of the bed. B. A. dozed in a padded arm chair he had placed beside the bed.

The first thing she noticed beyond her surroundings and the Sergeant was Murdock beside her. He was so close they could have held hands if either had been awake. The second observation she made was that they were no longer in the motel room but in a bedroom somewhere else.

A small gasp escaped her lips as she tried to sit up. The right side of her head pulsed with pain. Collapsing onto the pillow again, she took two steadying breaths before rolling onto her side to curl closer to the unconscious pilot and try to wake him from his sleep.

When she did, she met B. A.'s relieved gaze.

"Least one of you's awake," he muttered. "Good to see you, li'l sis. Didn't know how long the stuff he used was gonna keep you out." The Sergeant stood up. "Let me go get Hannibal."

She half-rose on her elbow and shuddered at the stabbing pain in her head the movement caused. "No. Wait, B. A." She reached across Murdock and clutched at the black man's arm. "Stuff who used? Where are we? Where's H. M.'s father?"

He hesitated. The muscles around his jaw tightened, then relaxed. Gently patting the hand that held his arm, he answered,"We're back at the farm. You an' Murdock's safe. Now you lay down an' let me tell Hannibal you're awake."

He waited until she lowered herself back onto the bed, one hand resting lightly on Murdock's chest and her head tucked close to his. With puzzled eyes she followed B. A.'s quick retreat from the room. The muscles in the pilot's arms and legs were twitching slightly. He felt warm to the touch and sweat beaded on his forehead. Something wasn't right about Murdock's unresponsiveness and it worried her.

She heard B. A.'s rumbling voice address someone and then footsteps approached the room.

Hannibal impatiently shoved the door open and entered, followed by B. A., Face and Cyndy.

"Miss Scalatini." The Colonel regarded her from icy blue eyes. His tone promised she would have to answer some very tough questions.

"Hannibal." She attempted to sit up again and winced. Giving up and nestling close to Murdock, she asked, "Where's H. M.'s father? How did we get here?"

"I'll keep packin', Colonel, so we can get outta here soon as you give the all clear." B. A. paused at the door. As soon as Hannibal nodded, his back turned to him, the Sergeant winked at Dani to reassure her and left.

"Lieutenant, why don't you and Miss Berquon help him?" The Colonel continued to scrutinize Dani and Murdock, his expression one of ill-concealed anger. He drew himself to full height, his posture reflecting the tension in the room, and waited for the conman to obey his implied order.

_Do it now, Lieutenant. Don't make me have to tell you twice. _

Face sputtered a protest. Twining her fingers in his, Cyndy whispered something in his ear and led him to the door. With one more concerned glance at Dani and Murdock, Face followed Cyndy out the door and closed it quietly behind them.

As soon as they left, Hannibal sat down. Tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair, he breathed deeply and stared at her. "Do you mind explaining why you ran away and chose to take a room at the Happy Siesta Motor Lodge?"

_God, I feel like I'm her father scolding her for staying out too late with her boyfriend. _He knew that wasn't the reason they left. Murdock would have some explaining to do as well but other things had to come before that.

He didn't know yet what effect the news of McKeever's death would have on Murdock. All of his energy and concentration might have to be devoted to gluing the Captain's mind back together when the pilot regained consciousness and found out what happened. Hannibal forced himself to calm down.

_I wish Gramma Murdock didn't have restrictions on smoking. I could use a good cigar about now. _

"H. M. wasn't going to take no for an answer. He said you'd turn his father in . . . "

Hannibal nodded. "And I might have. Or not. The man was dying, after all. I hadn't decided for certain before you took off."

She clasped Murdock's right hand in hers as if to draw strength from him. "He said he needed to keep a promise to his father. You should have seen how desperate he was. He couldn't take care of McKeever alone but he would have tried if I hadn't helped." She touched her head where the throbbing headache seemed to originate and grimaced at what she felt there. "Ouch."

"We cleaned that cut as best as we could. It'll hurt for a while but I don't think it'll need stitches. You must have hit your head on the bedside table when the etomidate took affect." He shot a piercing look at Murdock before gazing at her again. "You _were _the one eating that chocolate sprinkle donut, weren't you?"

"He bought it for me . . . " her voice trailed off as she realized what Hannibal was implying. Her eyes widened at the thought.

"That's what I figured. He must have _meant_ to use the rest on his father but I think he gave himself the dose instead. Why, I'm not sure. It didn't matter in the end." The Colonel's gaze softened as he looked at the unconscious pilot.

"In the end?" Dani stared at him, her mouth slightly open. Realizing what he meant, she draped one arm across Murdock's abdomen and laid her head on his chest. Shivering slightly, she closed her eyes for several seconds. "So he died alone anyway?" she murmured.

"Not exactly. Murdock was almost laying across him when we got there like he was trying to keep death from getting him. He had taken out McKeever's gun." Her eyes snapped open and she raised her head to look at Hannibal. "Again, I don't know why. Maybe he was going to use it on himself. Maybe he thought his father would use it to end his own suffering. I don't know."

"But he didn't use it on his father?"

Hannibal noted how she held her breath waiting for his answer. He shook his head. "No. It looked like McKeever died without any assistance."

He watched her as she propped herself on one elbow and stroked the unconscious man's cheek. Her expression was so sorrowful, he didn't know if he would tell either of them the rest of his suspicions, that McKeever may have intended to frame his son for murder as a final revenge.

_Maybe it would be better if Murdock never knew. _

"McKeever was playing a game with H. M., Hannibal." Her bitter tone surprised the Colonel for a few seconds. She continued to caress the pilot's face but her mood had changed from sympathetic to angry.

"What do you mean?" Hannibal watched her closely as she measured out her words in her mind before speaking.

"He made himself appear closer to death than any of us realized just so H. M. would do anything he could to please him. When he couldn't get him to drink anymore, McKeever had him visit the cemetery where his people are buried and made him relive his nightmares." Her blue eyes searched Hannibal's face for understanding. "He wanted to destroy H. M. all along and his own death was the final blow."

"I know. I suspected that."

In a softer voice, her hand stroking back Murdock's hair, she asked, "How are we going to tell him without finishing the destruction, Hannibal?"

The Colonel shook his head and let the silence that filled the room be his uncertain answer.


	158. Chapter 158 Stuffing the Pain

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 158 Stuffing the Pain

_How do we tell him his father has died without destroying him like his father planned to do? _

Hannibal and Dani spent several minutes in silence contemplating the nurse's last question. He watched as she bent to kiss the pilot's forehead. She scrutinized Murdock's face and dabbed the sweat away with a corner of the bed sheet.

"Hannibal, how much etomidate do you think Murdock took?" Dani's sudden question startled the Colonel.

He frowned and rose from the chair to look down at the pilot. "I think maybe an entire syringe full of it. Why?"

_It was probably as much as I normally give B. A. But B. A. is a lot heavier. _

"I'm wondering about its interaction with the antidepressants he takes. Anesthetics can react with central nervous system medications in nasty ways. It's part of the reason he hates going into surgery." She patted his cheek anxiously. "Come on, hon. It's time to wake up now."

"What kind of reactions does he usually have?" Hannibal knelt beside the bed, his gaze on the nurse as she continued her attempts to wake up Murdock.

"The sort of thing you're seeing now. Involuntary muscle twitches, sweating, elevated body temperature. But that's when they know what he ordinarily takes. They prepare for any surgeries he has to have by holding back on his meds for a couple of days."

"And when he wakes up?" The Colonel gripped the pilot's hand in his, noting the sweaty palms and tremors for the first time.

_I was so intent on chewing both of them out for taking matters into their own hands that I didn't notice. _

"Hallucinations sometimes." She smoothed back his damp hair from his forehead. "Come on, H. M. It's Dani. You need to wake up now."

For several minutes, there was no response but the small convulsive movements of the arms and legs. Hannibal kept his eyes on the pilot's face.

_Come on, son. _

The Colonel internally applauded the nurse's persistent efforts but he wasn't sure they would get a response very soon. A dose large enough to put B. A. down within minutes combined with side effects might keep him out for a long time.

It took many more tense minutes before Dani's efforts to rouse the pilot were finally rewarded. Hannibal was surprised but thankful.

With a pained frown, Murdock swallowed and licked his lips. He whispered something, his eyes still closed.

Even as he slowly regained consciousness, his muscles continued to spasm. His eyelids opened and he cast a wild disoriented glance around the room, then focused on the woman beside him.

"Where's Pa?" he rasped. He kept his gaze on her until he had his answer. When he realized what her sorrowful expression meant, he franticly shook his head as if to deny it. "No. He ain' dead. He can' be. Not yet. I didn' say goodbye."

Hannibal squeezed his hand to get his attention. Wounded brown eyes searched the Colonel's face before turning away to stare in sullen, tormented silence at the ceiling. "You may not remember but I think you did say goodbye. He knew how you felt. I'm sure he did."

When Murdock looked at him again, Hannibal's heart sank at the self-condemnation and doubt he observed in the glassy eyes. "Did he?"

"Did you do everything you could to comfort him in his last hours?" _Even though the bastard didn't deserve it?_

Instead of answering, Murdock squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, the crinkles at the sides of his eyes showing the amount of emotional pain he harbored inside. Hannibal helplessly watched as the pilot slung one arm across his face. For several moments, he shuddered with the effort to subdue his grief.

And then he was through it, viciously swiping at his eyes with his shirt sleeve. With a carefully composed calmness, he gazed at Hannibal. "I'm a'right now. Got things t' do."

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he fiercely tugged on his high top tennies and scanned the room for his jacket and cap. The body tremors had increased significantly and made his determined movements seem mechanical.

The Colonel's stomach twisted. He understood Murdock enough to know he had stuffed the pain into the darkest recesses of his mind. Memories of his father's last hours would keep company with the worst memories of Nam in whatever compartment marked "Do Not Open" Murdock created for them long ago.

_And when will you vent that pain and let it play itself out? Or will it torment you in your dreams for the next ten years? _

Hannibal determined in his heart he would not allow Murdock to do that ever again. Even if it meant he had to figure out how to be a father figure in a damn big hurry.

"Where's . . ." The pilot swallowed again. "Where's his body?"

"We had to bring it . . . him . . . back here to the farm. If we'd left him at the motel, the police would have been looking for you and Miss Scalatini to ask you questions. As it is, we're running out of time before Winton calls the authorities down on us. Doctor Freedman is trying to delay Winton's release but that will only work so long." He would not tell the pilot about the amount of money they gave the motel owners for damages and closed mouths.

"I wanna see 'im. We need t' bury 'im." Murdock clenched his teeth and fisted his hands in an effort to quell the tremors in his body.

"We can't stay around that long to make funeral arrangements. We have to leave as soon as possible, Captain." Hannibal gave Murdock a sympathetic look.

The pilot pushed himself to his feet. Swaying, he didn't notice Dani standing behind him, her arms around his waist, her head pillowed on his shoulder. After a few harsh breaths, he muttered, "Then leave me here. I'm gonna bury him 'side Billy. County don' need t' know he's dead. I'll be gravedigger, undertaker, preacher man 'n' mourner too, if that's what I gotta do." His words were coming out quickly as if any space left between them could give Hannibal leverage to persuade him otherwise.

The Colonel drew in a breath to reason with him.

Lifting his chin and taking in a shaky breath, Murdock emphasized, "I _need_ t' bury 'im. He was my Pa. If ya wanna do anythin' t' help me, let me do that, Colonel." He impatiently released Dani's hold. Spying his jacket and cap, he walked over and pulled them on with jerky movements.

"You realize Winton will have the authorities out here as soon as he's released from the hospital, don't you? He remembers this was our base of operation. He'll smell a double cross, probably already has since no one is there in the room with him. Face, B. A. and I'll have to get out of here before that happens. We may not be here much longer." Hannibal put both hands on Murdock's shoulders, forcing eye contact.

Even as he tightened his grip, the Colonel could feel the electric tension surging through the younger man's body. Behind the stony glare, the Captain restrained emotions that had the damage potential of a nuclear blast.

"Then I guess I'd better get t' work. Where's Pa's body?"


	159. Chapter 159 Gravedigger

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 159 Gravedigger

Face paused beside the veranda chair where Hannibal was seated. He followed the older man's gaze toward the path leading to the small clearing and Billy's grave.

Nudging the Colonel, he muttered, "We're almost packed and just waiting for your word to get out of here." The Lieutenant paused before adding in a worried tone, "Don't you think someone should at least go back there and make sure he's alright?"

Earlier, B. A. and the conman witnessed Murdock stomp out of the house to the barn. He emerged with a shovel over his shoulder and a scowl on his face. Trudging through the tall weeds, he loudly argued with himself as he went.

B. A. scowled at the pilot's hostile conversation with Lord knew who. "He ain't done that for a long time, Faceman. You wanna go help 'im or should I?"

The Lieutenant would have gone after him if Hannibal hadn't at that moment left the farmhouse to sit on the veranda. "Let him be, Face." The Colonel's body sagged with weariness. "Let him be."

They knew something was wrong between the Colonel and the Captain but neither of them would ask Hannibal what it was.

That was thirty minutes ago.

From the direction of the clearing came the faint sound of dirt scraping against metal as a shovel was thrust into the ground. Though they could not see him, they knew Murdock was digging a grave. He had been working at it for almost as long as he had been gone, thirty long minutes of steady digging with no rest.

"He needs to work off some of his anger and grief, Lieutenant." Hannibal squinted into the distance and set his mouth in a firm line. "If he doesn't, he'll explode."

"But he's injured. Won't he hurt himself more by trying to do this on his own?"

"When the pain becomes too much for him to handle, he'll ask for help," the Colonel said in a quiet voice. "Right now he needs his space more than he needs our sympathy and help." He scrubbed at his chin with one hand and worked his cigar over to the other side of his mouth.

"Aren't you being a little rough on him? He just lost his father. Doesn't he need his closest friends to be there for him?"

The Colonel continued to smoke and watch the path. From behind them the farmhouse screen door creaked open and slammed shut. Dani handed Hannibal a glass of iced tea. She carried a second glass, ice clinking against the sides and making water droplets bead on the outside.

"I know what you said in there about H. M. He has to stay busy right now or he'll snap." She pursed her lips and glanced from Face to Hannibal. "But that doesn't mean I can't make sure he stays hydrated."

Hannibal nodded. His grim expression indicated how much it pained him to know he was not yet welcome in the small clearing. Murdock hadn't wanted any of them to know about Billy or any of his past from the beginning. Now he didn't want them to see the depths of his grief. "Do whatever you can." Clearing his throat and staring down at the worn boards at his feet, he added in a gruff voice, "Let me know how he's doing."

She took his hand and squeezed it. "You know he looks at you like a father even if neither of you stubborn-minded fools will admit it. He won't be angry forever. Trust me." With a quick smile, she left the two men on the veranda.

"This's all of it, Colonel." B. A. left the farmhouse carrying the ice chest. He glanced with solemn eyes at the young woman as she waded through the tall grasses to the path. "Anything else I need ta do?"

"Just in case Winton brings the law out here before Murdock's finished burying his father, you might back the Corvette and the van into the barn so they're hidden from the road." The Colonel paused as B. A. left to obey his order.

A sudden brief grin spread across his face. "Maybe Hollis Latreque can buy us some time and keep Winton from doing too much damage." As he finished, Hannibal glanced at his Lieutenant. "Take Cyndy's truck and pay a visit to our friend. Between you and Miss Berquon maybe you can persuade him to begin to press charges against Winton for assault with a deadly weapon or attempted murder. He can let them know where Winton is and hopefully they'll get to him before he's released. Maybe you can spend some time saying goodbye to your young lady. Just don't spend _too_ much time doing it."

Nodding his thanks Face stepped toward the farmhouse door to get Cyndy. "And give young Latreque this. Ask him to give it to the cops." Hannibal handed the conman a sealed envelope.

Face raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to one side. "Winton's signed testimony?"

"No. They can't convict a dead man of murder, can they? And what would it do to Murdock? No, we'll let those secrets be buried with McKeever." Hannibal frowned. It went against his ideas of justice to let two murders and several years of physical and psychological abuse go unpunished. But what good would it do to expose the truth now?

"Then what is it?" Face examined the plain white envelope in his hands. On the outside Hannibal had printed "In the Event of My Death" in capital letters.

"It's a note asking the authorities to check the barn for evidence that will add several counts of larceny to the assault charge. We can at least make sure someone pays for those thefts." The Colonel looked down at the cigar in his hand before placing it back in his mouth. "I made it sound as if McKeever himself was the one turning him in. It may mean they dig his body back up to make sure he wasn't murdered but . . . "

"So why let Murdock dig the grave? Why not just let McKeever be found where he is?"

"Murdock wouldn't go with us. You and I both know that. He would demand to be allowed to stay here with the body. And if we force Murdock to go with us now and leave McKeever's body in the dining room for the authorities to find, he won't forgive any of us. Would you in the same situation?" Hannibal watched the younger man's face.

The Lieutenant swallowed hard and looked toward the trees where the clearing was hidden. "I think I understand," he murmured. "I remember him protecting me, helping me through my own father's death, hanging in there with me even when I pushed him away for keeping Bancroft's identity a secret." Face ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "He needs to believe he's honored his father with this." He sighed. "Maybe later I can help him find where they reburied him and bring him back to visit and put up a marker."

Hannibal nodded and continued to stare at the path. Face went to find Cyndy and deliver the Colonel's message while Hannibal reflected on his changed plans.

Sometimes being both a leader and a father figure led to uncomfortable but necessary choices.

He let the cigar burn down to a stub in his hand as he waited.


	160. Chapter 160 Stand By Your Man

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 160 Stand By Your Man

"Hann'bal don' know what it's like t' bury the las' fam'ly ya got in the world, Billy. It's somethin' ya gotta do when yer the las' one livin'."

She heard his angry statement and labored breaths before she saw him. Whether his gasps for air were from his digging, his lingering pneumonia and bruised ribs or from grief she couldn't tell.

_Billy? _

He had not taken her to see Billy's grave. She heard about it from Hannibal. She also heard about the conversations he had been having with his dead baby brother since before they arrived in Texas.

When she laid her eyes on the flat stone with the carved inscription, its detail surprised her. It had taken time, effort and a steady hand to chisel the set of numbers and letters into the stone like that. The love with which it was obviously done moved her to tears.

"Maybe I won' go back with 'em. Maybe I'll stay out here, get this farm back t' the way it was when we was a fam'ly. Ya'd like that, wouldn'tcha, baby brother?" He punctuated every few muttered words with a vicious stab at the ground with the shovel.

In the increasing heat of the day, Murdock had removed his cap, jacket, flannel shirt and T-shirt. They lay on the ground beside the simple gravestone.

He toiled in an oblong hole already hip deep. Sweat trickled down the pilot's back, cutting through the dust and grime of his work. His bare chest was covered in a sheen of perspiration. His shaggy brown hair hung in damp disarray. The droplets that traced paths through the film of dirt on his cheeks could have been tears or sweat. Dani couldn't tell for sure.

Fresh blood the size of a half dollar seeped through the dirt-smudged gauze bandage around his upper left arm. A lump formed in her throat.

_That's going to need some attention again. If we can get him to let anyone look at it. Why does he have to be so stubborn? _

She breathed deeply before speaking. He was not yet aware of her presence and she wasn't sure what his reaction would be. "I brought you something to drink."

He raised his head to gaze at her and immediately put one arm up to shield his eyes from the sun. She flinched at the momentary hostility she saw in his expression. His eyes flickered to the glass in her hand and then back at the ground under his muck-covered tennies. He licked dry lips before jabbing the shovel into the grave bottom and tossing another spadeful of dirt onto the growing pile.

"Thanks but no thanks, darlin'. If I wanna hitch a ride on the A-team train leavin' town I gotta hustle with this." She knelt on the grass beside the grave and let her eyes wander over his lanky frame.

_He's grown way too thin. I can see every rib. _

He sensed her scrutinizing gaze on him. Impatiently, he rammed the blade of the shovel into the soil and leaned against the wall to glare at her.

He muttered a curse under his breath before addressing her. "Got somethin' more ya gotta say t' me? 'Sides a lecture on how ya'll gotta get movin' 'fore the law comes callin'?"

She shrugged and looked down at the grass, considering her words. Some of the white hot rage he had directed at Hannibal back at the farmhouse dissipated as he expended his energy on digging the grave. But he was still angry enough to be unpredictable.

_Careful, Dani girl. _

When she met his irritated gaze, her blue eyes flashed with indignation. She decided to answer him with sarcasm, not knowing if it would prompt an irrational response or not. "No, I figured I'd sit and watch until you dropped over from heat exhaustion. Then I'd get Hannibal to haul you out of there. Now do you want to keep on being mule-headed or can I ask the guys to help you with this project?"

For several seconds, he seemed to mull over her question. "Ain' bein' mule-headed. It's jus' somethin' I gotta do for him. _I_ gotta do it. _Not the guys_." He snorted and returned to his labor. "Ya don' understan'. Nobody does 'cept Billy."

"Don't believe for one minute you're that difficult to read, Captain. At least not to me." At the mention of his rank, he squinted up at her with surprise at her reprimand. "You want to honor your father by burying him yourself. You don't want to leave it to strangers. I get that."

"No, ya don' get it, darlin'. In the end, I failed 'im. He wasn' s'posed t' die all 'lone with nobody t' talk to. I was s'posed t' help 'im on 'is way. But I couldn't. Leas' I can do t' make it up t' 'im is this." His breaths were short and harsh as he gestured wildly around him at the hole he had dug.

"How long are you going to do things to 'make it up to him'? Big news flash, hon. He can't see what you're doing anymore. He's dead. And Hannibal, Face and B. A. aren't strangers. They're more family than your father ever was or ever would have been. They _want_ to help but you're just being too much of an _ass_ to accept it."

The words came out before she put any thought into their content or impact. Once said, she mentally kicked herself for the crushing anguish she saw in his expression.

_How could I have said something like that to him? _

Giving her a long glassy stare for several seconds, he swiped at his eyes with his right wrist and bent to pick up another shovelful of earth.

"I know that." He said the three words quietly but Dani could almost feel in her own heart the piercing pain she had inflicted with her thoughtless comment.

Shifting position to sit cross-legged on the ground, Dani stared down into the amber liquid in the glass she held. Softly she said, "I'm staying, you know. It doesn't matter what the others are forced to do. I'll stay beside you all the way, H. M. And together we'll find a way to get back to L. A. when it's all over. Or stay here if that's what you really want. But I'm not leaving you."

The rhythm of his digging slowed and then stopped. Drawing closer to where she sat at the edge of the grave, he propped the shovel against the earthen wall. When she looked into his eyes, she realized with relief that at least for now he wouldn't send her away.

"Ya mean that?" he rasped.

She vigorously nodded and reached out to wipe a sweat droplet or tear, it didn't matter which, from under his eye.

"Is there anything you want me to do to help?" She didn't know what she could do, but at that moment she would have dug a hole to China if that was what he needed. Continuing to hold her in his gaze, he shook his head.

"Jus' stay with me 'n' don' _ever_ leave me, angel, no matter how big of an ass I am," he whispered. "That's the bigges' help ya can give me right now."

She offered the glass to him again and was comforted when he took it from her and drank.


	161. Chapter 161 Of Messages and Boxes

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 161 Of Messages and Boxes

Cyndy and Face waited in the doorway of the Latreque house, watching Hollis pace the living room.

"So my Pa's murderer's dead? Ol' man McKeever died? What kinda justice's that?" He stopped and faced the couple, his jaw muscles twitching with anger. He squeezed his hands into fists at his sides as he glared at them.

Cyndy shrank back from his hostile questions and grasped Face's arm.

Face narrowed his eyes. He gauged Hollis's vengeful rage, knowing it could work to the team's advantage if he said the right things to channel it in the right way.

"I know what you mean. McKeever was a monster who deserved a lot worse than that. Knowing the amount of abuse he heaped on my best friend all through his childhood, the last thing I wanted to see was McKeever die of natural causes." The conman scowled at the thought and noted the other man's surprised expression. "You didn't know? Murdock was his father's punching bag for years."

"He was in 'n' outta the hospital so much, I guess I never wondered why. There were rumors but, no, I didn' know for sure." Hollis shook his head. "My Pa said he was sending McKeever t' finish the job but I didn' know what that meant."

The Lieutenant cocked an eyebrow at him. "Really? What does 'finish the job' _sound_ like it means?"

"Honest. I told Smith the same thing. I didn't know!" Face scrutinized Hollis's paling wide-eyed expression as he denied understanding his father's intentions. Usually he could tell when someone was lying. The other man was either very good at it or he was telling the truth.

No matter. Hollis didn't give the orders to stop the performances. His father did, and his father died at the hands of one of the men sent to do it.

"All through school H. M. hid it from almost everybody. Almost everyone but me, and I didn't even know how bad it was until a short while ago." Cyndy held Latreque's gaze as she spoke. He frowned and looked away.

Was he comparing the treatment his own father gave him to what Murdock suffered under McKeever's hands? Face hoped so. It felt suddenly very important to let this arrogant bastard know how much his best buddy suffered through most of his life. A lot more than Hollis Latreque ever had to endure and yet Murdock came out on top of it. With effort, the Lieutenant reminded himself what Hannibal sent him to do.

"Nothing can be done about that now." Face's gaze bored into Hollis. "Look. Winton was going to let you kill Murdock onstage and pay for that yourself. I can tell you, he wasn't the least bit sorry you took the bullet for my friend either. He's being released from the hospital today and probably will try to head out to the old Murdock farm after that to find us. He thinks we have something he wants. If you want to see justice served, go after him."

Latreque stared out of the window at the magnolia tree in the front yard. "Your friend Smith was telling me the same thing." He drew himself up to full height and lifted his chin. "So you want me to go in and tell the cops I know where Winton is? That's it?"

"Well, there's a little more to it than that. Winton has a few more skeletons in his closet we're hoping to shake out. If you wouldn't mind making sure the police also get this envelope, we would appreciate it. The contents of it might significantly increase Winton's prison time." The Lieutenant handed the envelope to Latreque.

Hollis raised his eyebrows at the printed words on the outside but slowly nodded his cooperation. Looking up, he gave them a grim smile. "Anything else?"

Face shook his head. He sensed Hollis staring at them as he led Cyndy to the door.

Just before they left, the young man mumbled, "Tell H. M. I'm sorry fer 'is loss. 'Kay?"

Face nodded. "I'm sure he'd say the same to you, Mister Latreque."

oooooo

Hannibal checked his watch for about the tenth time since Dani made her way to the clearing.

Drumming his fingers against the arm of the chair, he muttered, "How long does it take to deliver a glass of iced tea?" If she didn't return soon, he would have to go back there to make sure she was safe. He tried to reason that it wasn't because he didn't trust Murdock's mental state but he knew he was lying to himself.

_They're probably just talking. Maybe she's getting through to him. I'll give her another half hour. If she isn't back by then, I'll go and make sure everything is going well . . . even if Murdock doesn't want me to intrude._

He watched as B. A. backed the Corvette and van into the barn. Shortly after, the Colonel heard the characteristic sounds of a crowbar prying nails from wood.

_What the hell? _

Frowning, he stood and strolled across the farmyard to find out what the muscular Sergeant was doing.

He paused at the doorway to the barn and allowed his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light. With a crowbar in hand, B. A. walked purposefully from stall to stall, testing loose boards as he went.

"What're you looking for?"

The Sergeant squinted toward the doorway and continued his search. "Boards, nails. Found a saw an' hammer already."

"And you're looking for boards and nails to . . . " Hannibal let the sentence fade. He had an idea what the black man was up to.

B. A. scowled as he emerged from a stall, carrying a long timber over his shoulder. His dark eyes flickered toward the Colonel for a second before he dropped his find in the back of the barn. He strode over to another stall.

He loosened a board, pocketing the nails and hefting the board onto his shoulder. Only when Hannibal blocked him from moving out of the stall did the Sergeant answer.

"Fool's father shouldn't be buried without some sort o' box to hold his remains," B. A. grunted. "You want ta help me, find more boards an' nails. I'll get to makin' the box. Gotta use that plywood sheet and old board. Ain' gonna be nothin' fancy."

"I'm sure Murdock will appreciate what you're doing." The Colonel patted the Sergeant on his shoulder before taking the crowbar into the next stall.

"Yeah, well . . . you can tell him you ordered me to build it. He don't need to know I started it without askin' first . . . does he?" B. A. frowned at Hannibal for a few seconds before dropping his gaze to his work.

"Your secret's safe, Sergeant. When Face and Miss Berquon get back, I'll have them find a blanket we can use as a lining." The Colonel flashed the black man a fleeting smile. "Good thinking, B. A."

"He ain' let us help no other way. Even if his Pa was the rottenest son of a bitch 'round, fool's still gotta be hurtin'." B. A. placed a cross piece over five six foot long boards and nailed it into place. He looked up, concern creasing his forehead. "Crazy man's been doin' weird stuff lately, tryin' to kill hisself, talkin' to Billy, worryin' over a man that's hated him all his life. Is he goin' nuts for real on us, Hannibal?"

_That's the million dollar question. Sure wish I knew for sure. _

"This hit him hard. Hell, this whole mission was hard on him. I don't know how to answer, B. A." The Colonel pried another board from a stall and brought it back to the Sergeant.

They worked together in silence for several minutes. Neither man wanted to talk about the trip back to L. A. If Murdock sank any deeper into whatever abyss his father's death had created, it would not be pleasant or easy for any of them.

When the casket was almost finished, the Colonel stood back and admired the workmanship the black man had put into the simple board box. Hannibal knew B. A. was an extraordinary mechanic but he never suspected the man had skill with a hammer and saw as well.

"B. A., you could have been a carpenter. Very nice."

Hannibal noticed the corners of the Sergeant's mouth twitch slightly. "It'll do the job."

"It'll do the job just fine, Sergeant." Hannibal put a hand on the other man's shoulder and dismissed himself. "Miss Scalatini's still in the clearing with Murdock. I haven't heard any screams for help so I assume they're alive and well but I'd better check to make sure."

"Think you'll need help, Colonel?" A glimmer of concern crossed the black man's face. The Colonel knew B. A. was thinking of other times when the Captain's crazy dial had spun around to the violent setting. There was good reason to take precautions.

_Too many people crowding in on him might set him off. No, it's better I go alone. _

"Don't think so but I'll yell if I do." Hannibal steeled himself and strode purposefully toward the path leading to Billy's grave.

_It's time for Murdock to let us help him grieve. And I won't take no for an answer this time._


	162. Chapter 162 Some Assistance Required

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 162 Some Assistance Required

The sound of dirt scraping against the metal of the shovel formed a rhythmic background to Dani's soft murmur. As he was about to step into the clearing, Hannibal was relieved to hear Murdock answer her.

_If she's talking to him and he's responding, it has to be a good sign. At least he's not yelling. But it still doesn't mean he'll be happy to see me. _

The Colonel gave Dani a grim nod when she glanced up and saw him. Just a cursory look told Hannibal that Murdock was still on edge. Not only agitated but perhaps in physical as well as emotional pain.

He motioned with his head toward the pilot and raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

She frowned and shrugged. In a gentle voice she called out to the man in the grave. "H. M.? Hannibal came to see how you're doing."

_Now how's he going to respond? The only weapon he has that he could use against me is that shovel and he'd have to climb out of that hole before he could attack me. And I'd be ready for him. He knows that._

The Colonel braced himself and watched for the younger man's response.

Murdock paused with a shovelful of dirt and let his eyes flicker toward the older man before heaving the soil onto the pile beside the grave. He savagely plunged the blade into the ground at his feet and pushed it deeper with his foot.

"Jus' 'bout done," he muttered. Tossing the dirt out of the grave, he repeated the actions, more violently this time. Raising his voice but continuing his labor, he directed an accusation toward the Colonel. "Thought ya'll 'd be headin' fer L. A. by now. Wasn' those the plans?"

Hannibal scrutinized the growing blood stain on the gauze bandage and the pilot's labored breathing before answering.

_Not without you. Not unless we have to. _

Taking out a cigar and preparing it, he lit it and took in a contented puff. He gestured with it as he spoke. "Now, Captain. How many plans of mine have you known to actually go according to plan?"

Murdock squinted up at him for a few seconds and then snorted his agreement. "Not many." Leaning heavily on the shovel, he grimaced, his gaze fully on Hannibal. "So what _are _ya hangin' 'round for?"

_He's hurting again. I can see it in his face and the way he's standing. _

"H. M.!" Dani gasped in dismay.

The Colonel waved one hand to show he was not offended. "Well, for one thing Face and Cyndy aren't here yet. I told them to take some time to say goodbye. And for another thing, we have a funeral to attend." Hannibal kept his eyes on his cigar while he said the last sentence.

He knew he wouldn't get a verbal response. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the younger man slowly nod and look around himself at the hole he had dug.

"Grave's ready now. Guess I _will_ need help gettin' Pa's body outta the house 'n' over here. Dani 'n' I can' do it by ourselves." He scuffed at the soil with the toe of a tennis shoe, one hand in his pants pocket, the other loosely holding the shovel handle. Suddenly peering up at Hannibal, he added, "That is, if you 'n' the guys don' min' helpin' me carry 'im."

Murdock kept his gaze on the Colonel, his expression a mixture of uncertainty and guilt. Inwardly, Hannibal felt like some of the tension between them had melted with that single request for help.

_I hope I'm right. _

"Let me help you out of that hole and we'll go see if Face and Cyndy are back yet. As soon as they arrive, we'll make your father's funeral everything you think it should be. Deal?" Hannibal clamped his teeth around the cigar and extended his hand toward the pilot.

Murdock laid the shovel on the ground beside the grave and gripped the gloved hand in his. The faintest of smiles crept across his face. "Deal, Colonel."

oooooo

As they returned from the clearing, Murdock noticed the El Camino parked beside the farmhouse veranda and behind the white Bronco.

"I should wash up a bit 'fore we bury Pa." He glanced at Hannibal who nodded encouragingly.

"I'll put away the shovel and be in there in a few minutes, Captain." The Colonel held Murdock's gaze for a few moments. Then he turned and strode to the barn, the shovel over his shoulder.

Hesitating at the steps to the veranda, the pilot stared toward the door.

_'Fore I bury Pa. Yeah, right. I don' know if I can even go in there knowin' he's layin' there on that cot where they put 'im. _

The last time he saw his father alive the older man was mouthing the words, "Do it, boy" and pleading with him to end his suffering.

_Long as I live I'll never forget how he looked at me 'n' begged me t' give 'im the stuff that'd kill 'im quick 'n' easy. 'N' I couldn' do it. _

And then after he woke up in the farmhouse, when Hannibal showed Murdock where they had laid his father's body, he heard the accusing voice in his head again.

_It was an easy thing he wanted ya t' do 'n' ya failed, boy. Who else ya gonna fail when they need ya? Dani? Hannibal? Maybe B. A. or Face? Look at 'im. Look at 'im 'n' 'member how you failed. _

He drew in several breaths before slowly and painfully ascending the steps. Dani followed with his jacket, cap and shirts in her arms.

When he paused again at the door, the voice shouted so loudly at him he wanted to yell back to block it out. _So yer Pa ain' the only failure in yer fam'ly. Like father, like son. Ya failed. _

He clenched a fist and swiped his other hand over his face.

_Shut up, shut up, shut up! I did what I could. _

He felt a shudder go through his body as the voice cackled and murmured _Sure. Sure ya did. _

Dani touched him lightly on the elbow. "Are you going to be alright?"

_How do I answer, darlin'? I gotta be. _

He glanced at her and attempted to paste a smile that didn't feel natural on his face. "'Course I am, angel," he stammered.

Her eyes examined his for seconds before she frowned in sympathy and reached up to stroke his cheek.

_She ain' buyin' it. _

With a heavy sigh, he stopped trying and shook his head. "No, I'm not," he confessed.

"Then sit down and let me bring some water and a wash cloth and towel out to you. Maybe once you've cleaned up, you'll be able to go inside." She laid the things she carried from the clearing on the veranda and put her hands on his shoulders to gently push him into the chair.

Instead he wrapped both arms around her. Holding her closely, he buried his face in her vanilla-scented hair and willed his body to stop trembling. She didn't resist his embrace but let him squeeze her to himself as tightly as he needed.

When he finally released her to go inside, her cheeks were as wet with tears as his were.

"I won't be long, hon." She kissed him softly and caressed the side of his face once more.

And then she was gone, the screen door slamming behind her. Leaving him alone to fight the sneering voice in his head. Abandoning him to the memories that assaulted him afresh. Reminding him of a promise left unfulfilled and actions he planned that would never make up for it.


	163. Chapter 163 An Unexpected Kindness

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 163 An Unexpected Kindness

Dani rinsed out the wash cloth in the enamel basin beside the chair after bathing the sweat and grit from Murdock's back. Accepting the cloth from her, he scrubbed the layer of grime from his face and upper body.

"All clean, darlin'? Or did I forget b'hind the ears?" He scanned her face as she appraised what he had done.

She dabbed at a stubborn smear under his eye as he smirked slightly at her level of concentration. Then she nodded, kissing him on the lips before dunking the wash cloth in the murky water of the basin.

"All clean," she confirmed.

Carefully removing the bandage from his upper left arm, she shook her head over the still bleeding wound. "You opened it up again, H. M. Hannibal should ground you for a month for being so stubborn."

After cleaning around the wound, she pressed a fresh piece of gauze against it and wrapped a new bandage around the gauze to hold it in place and provide pressure to stop the bleeding.

He gave her a lopsided grin that he didn't mean. "But then we couldn' sneak outta the hospital 'n' go up t' Lover's Lane t' play 'round." Sticking out his lower lip in a pout and frowning, he crossed his arms and hoped she would react.

_Anythin' to avoid what's comin'. _

She shook her head and smiled.

He shivered and knew it wasn't because he was cold. Apprehension gripped him as he glanced at the door. Sliding his brown leather jacket on and folding his cap and stuffing it in his pocket, he sighed.

_Ain' no way o' puttin' it off now. _

He knew he was procrastinating, subconsciously delaying the finality of burying his father. It was such a . . . permanent . . . action.

_Maybe I don' wanna say the last goodbye. _

Dani rinsed the wash cloth and hung it over the railing and tossed the dirty water over the side of the veranda.

She heard his sigh and the creak of the wicker as he restlessly shifted in the chair. Propping the wash basin against the wall of the house to dry, she stood behind him and massaged his tense shoulders and neck. "The others are waiting for us, H. M. You have to go in sooner or later and tell them how you want to arrange things."

"I know that, darlin'," he whispered. His eyes stared absently toward the path leading to Billy's grave. He wondered again if burying Pa next to Billy was a wise idea.

_Hope they can get 'long t'gether. _

He reached up and grabbed one of Dani's hands, gently brushing it with his lips and then holding it against his cheek.

The voice that sounded like his Pa sneered at him. Shaking his head slightly, he squeezed his eyes shut.

_Puttin' it off, huh? What? Death scares ya? Ain'tcha made o' stronger stuff th'n that? Ya saw lotsa death over in Nam. _

"This's different," he murmured. Realizing he said the words out loud, he clamped his mouth shut.

_How close'm I t' the edge if I'm hearin' things 'gain? _

At the VA hospital, that type of thing got you a chemical cocktail of anti-psychotic meds until they believed they found the right combination that would keep the voices quiet but never totally exorcised from your brain.

"I'll be with you in there. I'm not leaving you." She moved in front of him and offered both of her hands. "You can tell us how you want to handle things and not have to look at him while we're getting everything ready. If that's what you need, we can do that."

Taking her hands and rising to his feet, he kissed her on the cheek before turning toward the farmhouse door and opening it.

_God help me. Here goes. _

Once inside, he forced his feet to shuffle into the dining room and toward the army cot where McKeever's corpse lay. He sensed Dani behind him. Whether her nearness was to prevent him from turning and escaping back through the door or she was there just for moral support, he wasn't sure.

He gazed down at the wispy gray-streaked brown hair and lean grizzled face of his father. A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed twice before it would go away.

_When'd ya age so much, Pa? Am I gonna look like you when I get old? _

From somewhere to the left of him, Dani slipped an arm around his waist. He absently clutched her to his side.

B. A. stood at the head of the cot, his large hands uncharacteristically twitching at his sides. His rings flashed in the narrow rays of sunlight streaking the floor.

"Hey, fool."

Murdock's eyes flickered to him and then back again to the body.

_Still callin' me the same thing. Don' matter I lost my Pa t' cancer. What does he care? I'll always be a fool t' him. _

"Hey, yourself." He said the two words in such a hollow, distant tone he could hardly be sure himself if he had said them.

_Thought Faceman 'n' Hann'bal'd least be here t' help. _

The black man continued to move restlessly, his gaze averted.

_He's got somethin' else he wants t' say. Wish he'd come out with it 'n' be done. _

B. A. cleared his throat. "Hannibal an' me made somethin' for your Pa. Hope ya don't mind."

Murdock frowned. What could his Pa possibly want or need anymore?

_What he wanted I was s'posed t' take care of for 'im. 'N' I failed. _

From somewhere in the kitchen hidden from his view there was a sound of at least two sets of footsteps. Face and Hannibal came around the corner bearing something between them. They carefully set it down on the floor beside the cot.

As soon as the Lieutenant straightened, Cyndy wrapped both arms around him and huddled in the shelter of his loose embrace.

Hannibal coughed to get the pilot's attention. "It isn't made of fancy wood with all the brass and polish but it'll serve the purpose if you want it to."

"Hopin' ya don't mind. We had to use some of the boards from the stalls in the barn," B. A. added.

The three men and two women waited expectantly for his reaction, unsure what it would be.

Murdock's puzzled eyes settled on the open casket. He blinked several times and his mouth gaped open. Swallowing, he tried and failed to say something but ended up shaking his head in astonishment.

"I . . . I don' know what . . . what t' say." Drawing in a deep breath and looking directly at each one in turn, he forced out a choked "Thanks."

"We still need to find something to line it," Cyndy offered. "I told them we should ask you if you had any ideas about that."

His thoughts swirling, he motioned weakly toward the stairs with one hand. "Up in my ol' bedroom. On the top bunk. There's one o' Gramma's handmade quilts. The one with all the state birds on it."

"I remember when your Gramma embroidered those blocks. I'll go get it." Cyndy gave him a sad smile and hurried from the room and up the steps.

_I do too, Buttercup. That's why I picked it. _

"Anything else, Captain?" Hannibal watched as Murdock knelt beside the casket. He touched the rough wood sides as if it would disappear before his eyes if he didn't make sure it was real.

_Is there anything else? _

The pilot straightened to his feet. "Jus' two 'r three things 'n' I'll be ready." He walked over to a china hutch and opened the top drawer.

_Still here after all these years. _

Reaching in, he removed a leather bound book with gold-edged pages and a red ribbon bookmark. He shook his head and smiled faintly at the good memories that erupted into his mind.

Fondly touching the inscribed words on the cover with his fingertips, he glanced up at the others. "I need somethin' from the dash o' Pa's truck. Other thing's in my duffel bag. Soon's I get 'em, we can get started."


	164. Chapter 164 Dust to Dust

Death Waits In the Wings

AN: The song Murdock sings is "It Is Well." It is particularly fitting here since Horatio Spafford, who wrote the words, wrote them at a time of great personal tragedy in his life. He had lost much of what he owned to the Chicago Fire and a short time later four daughters died tragically when the ship they and their mother were crossing the Atlantic in sunk. The verse he quotes is I Thessalonians 4:17.

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 164 Dust to Dust

Hannibal was beginning to believe the churning internal battle going on inside their pilot was being quieted by the detail Murdock was putting into the funeral plans. He was concentrating on something other than the fact that the man who had spent a lifetime hating him for no good reason was now dead and there was no possibility for further reconciliation. It seemed to be helping.

The Colonel was hanging his hopes on it.

But then as B. A. was about to slide the lid on the casket and nail it shut, Murdock grasped the Sergeant's wrist. His distressed eyes flitted over B. A.'s composed mask of impassivity and his fingernails bit into the other man's flesh.

"What're you doin', fool?" B. A. hissed as he tried to pry the Captain's hand off.

In desperation, Murdock pleaded with the black man. "Not yet. Please."

He placed himself between B. A. and the casket and tightened his hold on the other man's wrist. Face's eyes widened in stunned disbelief when the black man grimaced in pain.

The Colonel frowned. There was a tightrope tension in the pilot's action that set off alarms in Hannibal's head. They would have to be cautious around Murdock for at least the rest of the day. One misstep and they would be returning to L. A. with their friend's psyche broken into several scattered tiny pieces.

"B. A., let him have a few minutes." Hannibal motioned with his head for him to stand by the dining room door with Face, Cyndy and Dani. With a perturbed scowl, the black man stepped back.

Murdock went to the china hutch and opened the drawer again. Removing a single sheet of stationery and a pen, he sat at the kitchen table and wrote.

B. A. fumed his impatience and rubbed his wrist. "What's he doin', Hannibal? Now ain' the time to be writin' no grocery list."

Hannibal held a finger up to his lips.

As soon as the pilot was finished, he carefully folded the sheet in half and stood. Kneeling beside the casket, he tucked the note under McKeever's hands where they lay on his chest. He clasped the dead man's stiff cold fingers. In grim silence, he stared at his father's face as if to commit every feature to memory.

The minutes stretched on and both Face and B. A. shot concerned looks at Hannibal. He shook his head to keep them from disturbing Murdock's reverie.

With a sigh, the pilot gently caressed the still hands one last time and awkwardly staggered to his feet. Nodding to B. A., he set his mouth in a firm line and watched as the Sergeant slid the plywood lid into place and nailed it shut.

Hannibal kept his full attention on the younger man. Murdock startled at the first strike of hammer against nail. The sudden responsive jerk of his body seemed to set off a ripple effect of shudders with each successive blow.

B. A. noticed the reaction from the corner of his eye. He set his face into a determined glower and worked to finish the job more quickly.

Everyone but the pilot breathed a silent breath of relief when the final nail was in place. Murdock stared at the casket, his face crumpling into an agonized grimace.

He didn't notice when Dani stood beside him and squeezed his hand in hers.

For seconds the only sound in the room was Murdock's ragged breathing as he sought to get his grief under control.

Then he approached the casket. As he bent to pick up one corner of the box, B. A. gently pushed him out of the way. "This one's on me, man."

Face clasped the pilot's shoulder and gave him a sympathetic smile. "Let us do this for you, okay, buddy?"

Murdock glanced from one friend to the other as Hannibal said in an authoritative voice, "You have been relieved of this particular duty, Captain. Now if you would head the procession and escort the two young ladies out to the graveside, we'll follow."

The three men each took a corner and lifted the casket to their shoulders. The grieving pilot took a final look at the box and the solemn faces of his team mates. He tucked the Murdock family Bible from the china hutch drawer under his arm. Entwining his fingers with Dani's, he placed his other hand on the small of Cyndy's back and guided them out the door and to the clearing. Dani carried the grapevine wreath.

Once there, the three men carefully lowered the casket into the open grave using ropes they had placed there for the purpose.

Softly, Murdock began to sing something vaguely familiar to Hannibal.

_When peace like a river attendeth my way,  
When sorrows, like sea billows roll,  
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say  
It is well. It is well with my soul.  
_

Cyndy harmonized with him in singing the chorus.

_It is well, it is well,_

_It is well, it is well with my soul. _

Face squinted at the pilot. By the end, Murdock's head was bowed and his eyes were closed. The last harmonic note lingered in the quiet of the clearing.

No one wanted to be the first to break the reverent moment. They wondered if anything would be well with the pilot's soul in the days that were to follow.

Murdock finally opened his eyes. Clearing his throat, he removed the Bible from under his arm and paged through it.

"This was one o' Gramma's fav'rite parts o' the Bible, 'specially after Ma died." He hesitated, his eyes scanning the words before beginning. "'The dead in Chris' shall rise firs': Then we which are alive 'n' remain, shall be caught up t'gether with 'em in the clouds, t' meet the Lord in the air; 'n' so shall we ever be with the Lord.' That was outta first Thessalonians."

He smiled faintly. "That thing 'bout bein' in the clouds? Guess that was kinda the firs' thing made me wanna be a pilot. Wanted t' see if Gramma's Bible was right." He swallowed and shuddered. "Saw lotsa things from the air but I never seen the Lord up there. 'Specially not in the air space over Nam." He took a quick breath and looked up at all of them with pained eyes. "Don' mean He ain' gonna be there someday, come fer Gramma, Grampa, Ma, Billy. Don' know if He'll take me 'n' Pa."

Nobody responded. They were all thinking of what he said and remembering their own religious experiences, however many or few there were.

Face coughed, his hand to his mouth to muffle the sound. "I, uh, kind of remember a prayer the Sisters used to say whenever someone died." He closed his eyes and frowned, trying to remember the words just right. "It goes like this. 'Absolve, we beseech Thee, O Lord, the soul of Thy servant . . . uh, Harley McKeever . . . from every bond of sin, that being raised in the glory of the resurrection, he may be refreshed among the Saints and Elect. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.'"

He glanced up at Murdock and found the pilot's intense gaze on him.

"If I spoke out of turn, I'm sorry," the Lieutenant mumbled.

The Captain walked over and gripped him by the shoulders. He solemnly looked him in the eyes before pulling him into an embrace and patting him on the back. "Thanks, brother," he whispered. "No, it was . . . jus' right."

Pulling away, the pilot rubbed at his eyes with one hand.

"I guess . . . it's time t' . . . " He paused and swallowed.

He took a deep breath and stared down into the hole. Bending down to the pile of dirt, he grabbed a handful and sifted it with his fingers onto the casket in the grave. He cast an anxious glance at the others and then stood back while each one copied his action.

B. A. grabbed the shovel and looked at Hannibal for orders.

The Colonel caught Murdock's attention. Cautiously he asked, "Are you ready for B. A. to fill in the grave, Captain? If you aren't we can give you a little more time."

Murdock continued to stare down at the casket and thoughtfully nodded. Then he turned his fierce gaze on Hannibal. "It's . . . it's really . . . you know . . . hard . . . hard t' say goodbye." His eyes glassed over with tears and he turned back to the Sergeant. "Go 'head, B. A. Ain' nothin' much more can be done."

The Colonel looked away at the ground and remembered a Detroit hospital room and his own father's death. The sound of clumps of dirt raining down on wood drew his attention back to the pilot. He stood hunch-shouldered as every trace of the casket slowly disappeared shovelful by shovelful.

The rest of their small group were close enough to Murdock to provide moral support if he needed it but far enough away to allow him space to mourn.

As soon as B. A. tossed the final shovelful of dirt on the grave and tamped the surface, the pilot pulled something from his jacket pocket. It flashed silver in the sun. He held the harmonica to his lips and closed his eyes in concentration. As he played, the notes for "Taps" filled the air.

They were all gazing surprised at him when he finished and tucked the harmonica back in his pocket.

The corners of his mouth twitched an apologetic smile as he murmured, "I haven' played fer a while. Guess ya could tell. Jus' felt right t' do it."

He accepted the grapevine wreath from Dani and bent to place it between Billy's gravestone and his father's final resting place. Straightening, he remained with his back to all of them. The Colonel noticed the pilot's hands clenching into fists as he stared at the grave, the marker, and the wreath.

At that moment, as Murdock swayed unsteadily before the grave Hannibal could think of nothing he would rather do than to pull the younger man into a fatherly embrace. He restrained himself only because he didn't want to interfere with a very private moment.

B. A. and Face seemed to feel the same way. B. A. leaned on the shovel and kept his gaze on the mounded grave. Face clasped Cyndy in his arms. They stood in uncomfortable silence, waiting for Murdock's sign that the service was over.

Dani had no such barriers. She came up behind him and snaked her arms around his waist. Hannibal could not hear the murmured words she said into Murdock's ear but the pilot did. He turned and held her tightly, his body trembling, his eyes shut. Minutes later, when the shaking finally died down, he stepped away and glanced at Hannibal.

"Guess we'd better get on the road, " he muttered. Without another look back at the grave and the marker beside it, he briskly strode out of the clearing, his hands fisted at his sides, his posture stiff. He left Dani with the others.

Before anyone could follow him, they heard someone yell, "Stop right there!"

Murdock's response was some stammered Vietnamese words. "Không bắn. Tôi không vũ trang. (Don't shoot. I'm unarmed.)" His surprised yelp of surprise was followed by the sound of a scuffle and a single gun shot.


	165. Chapter 165 Trouble Comes Calling

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 165 Trouble Comes Calling

Hannibal sighed and glanced at Murdock as, tight-lipped and tense, the pilot strode from the clearing.

_Who should I send after him? Face or Miss Scalatini? Which one would be better at calming him down? _

The Colonel was still deciding when they all heard the shouted command to stop.

"Who d'ya think it is, Hannibal?" B. A. hissed at the older man as he came up beside him.

"Sounds like trouble." Face whispered to Cyndy. He squeezed her shoulder briefly before hurrying to join the two men.

The Colonel had time only to shake his head in response to B. A.'s question before they heard Murdock stammer some words in Vietnamese. Hannibal grimaced.

_This is a lousy time for a flashback. _

Dani paled as she heard the order to stop and Murdock's response. His cry of mingled pain and surprise stirred her to action.

Before she could move past the three men toward the path, B. A. clutched her arms behind her and held her back.

"You don't know what ya might be walkin' into, li'l sis," the black man muttered into her ear as she fought to free herself.

"We have to know if there's only one or more than one of them _and _who it is." Face whispered in her other ear. "We'll be no good to Murdock if we rush out there not knowing and either get him killed or get captured ourselves."

The Colonel was considering their next move.

_We need someone to try to get a look at who this is and figure out how we can get Murdock free. _

"Lieutenant . . . " was all the farther Hannibal got with his command before they heard the sound of a struggle.

The Colonel dropped to his belly with the gun shot. Face and B. A. both pulled Dani to the ground between them. While B. A. held the nurse down, Face crawled back to check on Cyndy. He was relieved to see she got down on the ground like the rest of them when she heard the shot.

Covering her with his arm as they lay there, he whispered, "Are you alright, angel?"

She nodded. He felt her trembling under his arm and moved closer to her to reassure her.

"I'm okay. But H. M. . . . " Her voice shook.

"You stay here and stay down. I have to get back and find out what the Colonel has planned." He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and crawled back to Hannibal and B. A.

"What d'ya think we should do, Colonel?" B. A. muttered.

They heard a voice growl, "Where's Smith?"

"Winton," Face whispered. "It didn't take him very long to get out here, did it?"

Hannibal frowned. "If he's asking for me, it means Murdock is still alive and conscious enough to respond. I doubt he has anybody else with him. I don't think Winton'll do anything as long as he thinks Murdock can tell him where I am."

They listened as Murdock said something that sounded like more Vietnamese in a tone like he was begging for mercy. The Colonel gritted his teeth at the desperation the pilot's voice contained.

_Hang in there, Murdock. We aren't going to abandon you. _

Hannibal stared at the path and then at the trees surrounding the clearing. "There's a path behind us that looks like it might lead out to Grayburg Road. Miss Scalatini, I want you and Miss Berquon to very quietly take that path and get to safety."

_Even if the path doesn't lead out to the road, at least the women will be safe. _

The nurse's eyes flared with anger. "I can't . . . no . . . I _won't_ leave H. M. I promised him," she hissed into the Colonel's face.

Hannibal gripped her wrist so tightly she flinched. "Listen to me. The first thing he'd tell you to do if he were here is to run. He knows what he's doing and so do we." His steely eyes bored into hers.

_At least I hope he knows what he's doing and isn't in the middle of the jungles of Nam in his mind._

"Do what the Colonel says. Please, Dani. You need to make sure Cyndy gets to safety . . . for me?" Face asked softly.

Her eyes searched his anxious expression for a few seconds before she nodded. As quietly as possible, she made her way back to the other woman. A few minutes later they had disappeared down the path behind Billy's grave.

Before Hannibal could tell the other two men his plan, Winton spoke again, his voice a low menacing growl. "Ya ain' in Nam, boy, 'n' if ya don' tell me where Smith is, I'll make what the gooks done to ya look like a friendly game o' checkers. You'll wish ya were back there."

oooooo

He had to get out of that clearing, away from all of them. There had to be a place where he could think without anyone wondering if he was alright.

_Stupid question. No, dammit. Whaddya think? Should I be alright? _

His muscles were twitching with the intense emotion he had been restraining. He felt like he could puke up his guts.

His gaze fell on the barn as he neared the path's end.

_That's 'bout the bes' place I know t' 'scape from their pryin' eyes. _

He took two steps toward the barn before he heard the shout to his left.

"Stop right there!"

He squinted toward the farmhouse. The ex-security guard that had held Cyndy at gun point and tried to kill him was pointing a gun at him and approaching rapidly.

_This ain' good. Guys'll come up that path 'n' run square on with Winton 'n' his li'l pop gun. _

Another thought brought bile to the back of his throat.

_Cyndy 'n' Dani'll be with 'em. _

He had a pretty good idea why Winton had shown up at the farm. Latreque's right hand man wanted the stolen goods Hannibal had hidden.

_'N' he don' care what he does t' anybody 's long as he gets what he wants. _

Thinking quickly Murdock raised his hands shoulder height and blurted out a response that he knew might momentarily confuse the armed man.

"Không bắn. Tôi không vũ trang. (Don't shoot. I'm unarmed.)"

_I know he don' know Vietnamese from jibber-jabber. _

He was right in his assumption. Winton stared in baffled silence, stopping a couple of yards from the pilot.

Taking the opportunity, Murdock bolted toward him with his head down, hoping to ram him in the belly.

Winton recovered faster than the pilot thought he would. Sidestepping Murdock, the armed man caught him in the ribs and made him yelp in pain.

_Shit, shit, shit! _

Clutching his abdomen and grimacing, the pilot fell to his knees.

_Gotta keep 'im from hurtin' the others. _

As Winton loomed above him, Murdock surged forward with his arms outspread to hit him around the legs and knock him down.

The ex-security guard fell backwards. His gun fired into the air, hitting nothing.

Again, Winton took control of the situation. Pointing the pistol directly at Murdock's forehead, he backed out of his grasp and staggered to his feet.

"Where's Smith?" he growled at the man still lying on his back. Murdock swallowed, his arms wrapped around his abdomen where the pain was the sharpest.

_Second time the plug ugly mudsucker's managed t' get me all lined up for a quick head shot. Gotta get 'im 'way from the clearin'. But how? _

Winton was expecting some kind of answer. Murdock plastered his best frightened expression on his face.

"Mẹ của bạn ăn gián cho bữa ăn trưa. (Your mother eats cockroaches for lunch.)" He whined out the insult as if he were begging for Winton to spare his life.

_Faceman couldn' do a better job. _

He squinted up at the armed man, hoping he had bought some time for himself and the others, hoping they knew to stay hidden among the trees.

"Ya ain' in Nam, boy, 'n' if ya don' tell me where Smith is, I'll make what the gooks done to ya look like a friendly game o' checkers. You'll wish ya were back there." Winton's growled threat made Murdock gulp.

_That's what I'm 'fraid of. _

Trying to ignore the rekindled pain in his ribs, the pilot swayed to his feet, his hands once again raised in surrender.

Winton gestured with his gun toward the farmhouse. "Smith in there?"

Murdock grasped at the opportunity and nodded eagerly. "Vâng, cha của bạn đã là một sên vườn. (Yes, your father was a garden slug.)" With Winton grasping the collar of his jacket and pressing the gun barrel into the base of his skull, the pilot let the armed man force him toward the veranda.

_He finds out I lied, I'm a dead man for sure. _

Billy whispered a reassurance to him.

_Don' be 'fraid, brother. The pain's only for a short while. Heaven's for eternity. We're waitin' for ya t' come home._


	166. Chapter 166 Angels and a Wise Guy

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 166 Angels and a Wise Guy

Dani stole a glance at the other woman as they picked their way along the trail Hannibal sent them on. She wasn't sure about Cyndy but she was _not_ going to wait and see whether the Colonel came up with a plan to free Murdock.

He would, she knew. But his plans usually involved high levels of "the jazz" and she knew they didn't always go as expected. And Hannibal wanted her to stay put with Cyndy where it was safe.

_Safe? How can I think of my own safety when I don't know what's happening with H. M.? No, Hannibal can tell me where to go but he can't make me stay there. _

Through the foliage, she spied asphalt pavement and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hannibal was right. Here we are." The two women emerged from the windrow of trees. Dani looked up and down the road to get her bearings. Making a decision, she turned to the right and jogged a few paces.

"Wait for me!" Cyndy called as she hurried after her. As she caught up, she cast a piercing look at the nurse. "We're going back there, aren't we."

"You don't have to if you don't want to." Dani set her mouth in a firm line as she continued her pace and focused on the road ahead.

"What will we do when we get there? Think about it. The person who ambushed H. M. has a gun." Cyndy caught at the nurse's sleeve and stopped her.

"So do I," Dani breathed, her impatience barely contained. She glared at the other woman and tugged her arm away from her grasp. "In my bag in the house. If I can get to that, I may be able to help."

_For crying out loud, girl. If you're so afraid, stay where you're safe. Just don't hold me back with you. _

"But we don't know where he took H. M.," the other woman argued, falling in step beside Dani.

They were nearly to the driveway of the Murdock farm. Cutting away from the road and into the trees, the nurse cautiously crept to the verge of the tree line and hunkered down. Cyndy followed, doing the same.

Dani nodded at the path to the clearing. As the other woman looked in that direction, she caught sight of movement and recognized Face as he crouched down and ran to the barn with his pistol drawn. Once there he kept his back to the exterior wall and edged toward the door.

"He's either going for one of the vehicles or for the rest of the weapons in the van. My bet is the weapons." The nurse kept her eyes on the Lieutenant's actions. When he poked his head around the door of the barn, she sucked in her breath, then sighed as he scurried inside without incident.

"That means Winton didn't take H. M. to the barn. Damn! They're in the house." Dani shook her head and frowned.

She scrutinized their surroundings. Everything seemed quiet now. Then she noticed a dark green panel truck belonging to Joyce's Floral Gifts parked among the trees opposite them. The boarded windows of the house prevented anyone from seeing it from inside, and the house blocked it from being seen from the barn.

She gestured with her head toward the unoccupied vehicle. "That's how Winton got here. Probably stole it from the hospital delivery zone." She thought a few seconds, then chuckled softly. "I may not be able to do much as far as retrieving my gun but I _can _make sure Winton has no transportation to get out of here before the cops come."

As the nurse sneaked closer to the open driveway, Cyndy whispered hoarsely, "What're you going to do?"

Dani smirked back at her and gestured for her to stay where she was. "You'll see."

oooooo

"Now where's Smith?"

A feigned look of astonishment on his face, Murdock glanced back at Winton. "I dunno. He was jus' here a few minutes 'go." He whistled through his teeth. "Here, Colonel. C'mere, boy." Looking around the farmhouse dining room, he shrugged. "Musta stepped out t' use the john."

"Ya lost yer Chinese accent," the armed man sneered.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I switched 'cause I thought ya didn' know the language." Murdock flashed him a lopsided grin.

_'N' it was Vietnamese, ya loser. Don' matter, s' long as I can delay anythin' yer gonna do t' me 'r the guys. _

"Take off yer belt 'n' sit down," Winton growled.

Murdock glared back at the gunman and fumbled at the buckle. "Ya know, ya don' hafta steal this. I bet the Beaumont Goodwill's got some used ones that'll fit ya." He pulled it through the belt loops and offered it to Winton. "But don' say I ain' ever willin' t' help out the poor 'n' needy."

"Shut up 'n' sit down!" Winton's eyes glinted with anger.

_Forgot this guy's got anger management issues. But he ain' keepin' me 'live fer nothin' so maybe I can have a li'l fun. Jus' gotta know when t' stop pushin' buttons._

"Ya don' min', I been layin' 'round close t' two weeks. I'd rather stand." Murdock plastered a cold smile on his face and crossed his arms over his chest. He felt his khakis settle a little lower on his waist.

_That's what a slimmin' diet'll do t' ya. Be a fine note if I lose my pants on the floor when the goin' gets tough._

"I said sit down. 'N' keep those hands up." The armed man aimed his gun at the pilot's right knee. "Or do I hafta do this t' make sure ya don' 'scape."

Murdock raised his hands again and grimaced. He noticed Dani's bag in the corner of the couch where she had left it.

_Wonder if Dani stashed the gun I gave 'er in there. What I wouldn' give fer a look-see inside right 'bout now. _

"Hands up jus' like you wanted 'em. See? But ya ain' tol' me where ya want me t' sit. Couch'd be comfy. Two o' us could have a nice cozy sit-down talk." The gunman growled a warning and Murdock gulped. "Or not."

His smile faded as Winton gestured with the gun toward one of the kitchen chairs.

_Better do what he says. He ain' gettin' no friendlier. _

With a last wishful glance at Dani's bag, he ambled over to the chair and sat.

"Hands behin' ya."

He winced as Winton cinched the belt around his wrists and lashed them tightly to the bottom rung of the ladder back chair.

_'N' now what? _

The armed man stood behind the pilot and pushed the barrel into Murdock's neck again. "Let's get serious, boy. Where's yer leader?"

_Man, this's gettin' old mighty fas'. _

The pilot hissed through his teeth, "Murdock, H. M., Captain, United States Army Air Corps. Ya wanna know my serial number, too, 'r are ya satisfied?"

"Gonna be a wise guy now?" Winton slid around to stand in front of Murdock. Leaning in closer, he cupped the pilot's chin in his hand and forced his head back. He scowled into his captive's face. "Latreque gave me lotsa practice dealin' with wise guys. The question's easy, boy. Is hidin' yer Colonel's where'bouts worth the pain yer gonna feel 'r not?"

_Can't be any worse'n General Chow. He had the patent on pain 'n' torture. _

Murdock smiled up at him, waiting for the first blow. He let an internal mantra start in his mind to help him endure whatever pain would follow.

_Name, rank 'n' serial number . . . name, rank 'n' . . ._

From outside there was the sound of a horn blaring and a motor revving.

"What the hell?" Winton sputtered and headed for the door. Murdock cheered internally for the opportunity.

_This guy ain' the brightest bulb in the pack, is he? If I'm really lucky, Hannibal 'r someone'll be waitin' for 'im t' pop his ugly face out the door. _

As soon as the armed man disappeared onto the veranda, Murdock staggered over to a wall.

_Gramma, please forgive me for what I'm 'bout t' do t' one o' yer chairs. _

With a few good bangs of the chair legs against the wall, he managed to mostly disassemble it. No matter how much he twisted his hands around, he could not free himself from the belt. He needed something . . . his eyes fell on the sink and the kitchen cabinet beside it . . .

_A knife! _

He scrambled to the silverware and utensil drawer and inched it out, his fingertips on the handle. No need to move hastily. Dropping the whole thing on the floor and scattering everything would make noise and waste time.

Alternating between glancing furtively at the door and peering over his shoulder, he groaned when he saw the cutting knives had all been removed. No doubt at Hannibal's insistence and for Murdock's own safety. Leaning weakly against the sink, he closed his eyes for a second and let out a sound something between a low frustrated groan and a manic laugh.

_Damn you, Hannibal! _

His wrists were still bound behind him when he heard Winton fire.

He hoped to God the gunman didn't hit his target, whoever it was.

_I don' have much time 'fore he comes back 'n' does somethin' I'm gonna prob'ly regret. _

He gave Dani's bag a fleeting glance as he rushed toward the door. Hiding behind it, he waited for Winton to return and continued to work at freeing his hands. All he needed was the element of surprise and a good deal of luck . . .

_. . . 'n', dear God, some help from my friends._


	167. Chapter 167 Tactical Maneuvers

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 167 Tactical Maneuvers

Face breathed much easier when he saw that no one was in the barn. Hurrying to the van, he threw open the back and unlatched the weapons locker. Murdock would not be pleased if they had to blow holes in the old farmhouse in order to rescue him but they would not let him sacrifice himself for their freedom or safety either.

The Lieutenant picked up an L-5 gas riot gun, two ferret rounds loaded with CS and a pair of goggles for himself. He heard someone scrambling toward the barn and swiveled to point his pistol at the doorway.

Peering around the back of the van, he took in a deep breath and released it all at once. B. A.'s body momentarily blocked some of the light coming in. For a moment, with the sunlight haloing his massive frame, he almost looked like a huge dark-skinned avenging angel.

A second later he loomed over the weapons locker.

"Fool's in the house then with Winton." It was a statement more than a question he directed at Face.

The Lieutenant nodded and B. A. scowled in the general vicinity of the farmhouse.

"That ain' good."

He found a Ruger Mini-14 and loaded it. Slinging it over his shoulder, he clenched his fists as they waited for orders. "Don't like this, Faceman. By now the cops're on their way out here if Latreque did what you told him to. They find us havin' a mini-war tryin' to get Murdock free from Winton an' they'll run all of us in."

"But what choice do we have? Winton wants the stolen goods and Murdock's a really good bargaining chip. He knows Hannibal won't leave Murdock behind." Face loaded the riot gun while he responded.

B. A. focused his attention on what Face was doing but the Lieutenant could tell his thoughts were on the captive in the farmhouse.

Finally he murmured, "Ta tell you the truth, Faceman, I wouldn' leave the crazy man b'hind either." He glared at Face. "But you _ever_ tell the fool that, I'll pound ya."

More footsteps running toward the barn alerted the two men that Hannibal was on his way. The Lieutenant gritted his teeth and nodded at the older man as he approached. "Ready to make Winton cry like a baby, Colonel."

Hannibal clenched a new cigar in the side of his mouth. Its smoke curled around him as he chose a Micro Uzi for himself and made sure it had a new full magazine in it. He gave each of them a cold steely look.

Before Hannibal could say anything, they heard a horn blaring and a motor revving somewhere near the road. They crept to the front of the barn and cautiously peered around the door toward the house.

A green panel truck shot out from the trees beyond the house and toward Grayburg Road. As the truck accelerated onto the pavement, Winton stormed onto the veranda, his gun in hand, and ran to the opposite end.

He aimed and fired off a shot. The driver's rear tire exploded into shreds and the truck veered toward the ditch before recovering and disappearing down the road.

Winton fumed toward the farmhouse door and went inside.

"What do ya think, Colonel? Was that the crazy man makin' a getaway?" The Sergeant frowned.

"I don't think so. Winton's stupid but he isn't so stupid as to leave keys in the truck. And Murdock would not have had time to hotwire it." The older man frowned.

"Well, the only other person it could be is . . . " Face started, then raised his eyebrows.

"Miss Scalatini," Hannibal muttered. "If it was, I'll skin her alive for taking that kind of chance." Both Face and B. A. noticed a small smile and nod of admiration moments later.

"You mean right after Murdock gets done yelling at her for the same thing?" Face smiled back.

"Yeah, Hannibal. She's gonna get it from both of you. But what she did was no worse 'n some of the things you do when you're 'on the jazz.'"

If the Colonel heard the last two remarks, he ignored them.

"Face, wait until B. A. gets around to that back kitchen door and I'm hidden in the bushes by the veranda. As soon as we're in position, I want you to shoot those rounds through two of the first floor windows." Hannibal grabbed a gas mask and handed one to B. A. as well. "B. A., if Winton leaves the house by the back door, you've got him. If by the front, I do. Once Winton comes out and is secured by one of us, the other two will go in and look for Murdock. If Winton's smart, he won't come out shooting."

"An' if he does, Colonel?" B. A. scanned Hannibal's face.

Giving B. A. another gas mask, the Colonel explained, "For Murdock as soon as you find him. We do what we have to. One way or another we get Murdock out of there alive and we make sure the cops have their suspect." The Colonel began to make his way toward the veranda, staying low and hidden for the most part among the tall grasses. B. A. cut to the right and toward the other side of the house.

Face glanced toward Heaven. Lately he'd found himself doing a bit more of that. "If you don't mind, God, could you please keep my buddy out of the line of fire." Heading back toward the tree line, he muttered, "And keep us safe, too."

A wild cry and gunshot from the farmhouse brought his guts into his throat and hurried him on his way. He hoped they weren't too late.

oooooo

Dani silently thanked her Uncle Tabio for teaching her when she was a teen how to hot-wire a vehicle. She obtained more experience when two of her old boyfriends, in their attempts to get into the lowest ranks of the Scalatini Family, thought liquor store heists and auto theft would get them noticed. It did, in the wrong way.

As she gently lowered the truck hood and pressed it shut, she hoped she could distract Winton enough to enable Murdock to escape.

She accomplished the last steps quickly and had the engine started within seconds.

"No use in just stealing the stolen vehicle without letting the thief know about it," she muttered under her breath. It was the type of reckless move Hannibal would be proud of.

Pushing the accelerator down as hard as she could while still in Park, she pressed down on the horn so it emitted one long loud blast. She slammed the shifter into Drive and gripped the steering wheel with both hands, seeing the armed man bolt out the farmhouse door.

"Here goes," she mumbled and pressed the accelerator to the floor. The truck flew from its hiding place and toward the ribbon of asphalt.

Moments after she careened onto the pavement, she felt the truck lurch toward the ditch as the tire Winton's bullet hit exploded under her. Strong-arming the vehicle from going off the road, she kept going. About a quarter mile down the road, she rammed the truck through a gap in a row of trees on her right.

Once parked in the farm field out of sight, she folded her arms over the top of the steering wheel. Resting her forehead on them, she caught her breath for a few seconds. Her heart raced with the adrenaline surge of getting away.

Leaving the truck, she sprinted back until she came to the place where she and Cyndy left the road to make their way to their viewing post among the trees.

The native Texan eyed the Californian with surprise and respect as the nurse crouched beside her again.

"Now the rat can't escape the sinking ship," she murmured to Cyndy. Spying Hannibal taking position in the shrubs by the veranda, Dani held her breath and waited for them to move in.

"It's all up to you now, guys," she muttered to herself. And then they heard a single screamed word followed by a gunshot.

oooooo

_Gotta time this jus' right. If I do it too soon 'r too late, I'm dead. _

Murdock heard footsteps coming toward the door. He gave up trying to free his wrists and waited, his heart hammering in his chest.

_Easier to tackle someone if ya got yer arms t' grab 'im with. Only got one shot at this. _

Thinking of the word 'shot,' he grimaced.

_Really bad pun. Hope it don' come true. _

His mind swung to how much like wrestling an orderly to the ground while straight-jacketed this would be.

_Only the orderlies at the V. A. don' carry guns. _

Winton swung the door wider and entered, pausing just inside the entrance. He surveyed the broken chair pieces on the dining room floor beyond the living room. His gun drawn, he growled and took two more steps into the room.

_C'mon. Jus' a couple more steps 'n' you'll be in the clear. _

It wasn't going to happen. Winton glanced up the stairs and was seconds from seeing him hiding behind the door.

_Prob'ly figured I ran up there t' get 'way, _Murdock thought for a millisecond. He cursed silently that he hadn't thought to do just that. _Coulda bought me more time. _

"It's now or never."

He didn't realize he said the four words out loud until the armed man quickly pivoted to face him. Screaming "Geronimo!", Murdock kicked the door closed and hurtled toward Winton, his head lowered like an enraged bull in a dirt arena.

Catching his captor squarely in the rib cage, he drove the breath from the other man's lungs in an explosive huff. The ex-security guard's hand jerked upward, his finger reflexively squeezing off a shot.

The explosive crack deafened the pilot's left ear immediately. Gunpowder particles tore at the skin around his eye and along the side of his face. He closed his temporarily blinded eye and felt the grit between his lids and the cornea. A gasp escaped him as Winton tossed him off and onto his back.

Seconds later, the gunman straddled Murdock, pinning him to the floor. The Captain kicked and arched his back against the heavier man but could not free himself. Not with his wrists bound and his arms under him.

As his ear rang with the lingering effects of the gunshot, he heard a muffled snarl come from Winton. He widened both eyes as much as he could and stopped struggling when he saw his assailant's rage-contorted face. The eerie calm of knowing he was about to die filled him.

_This is it. The end o' the road. The sunset on the horizon. _

The gunman positioned the warm gun barrel in the middle of his forehead and glared down at him.

Murdock stared back, his breaths short and ragged from Winton's weight on his midsection. He worked to maintain an impassive expression, all the while willing his racing heart to slow down. Listening for the voices in his head, he realized with alarm he was all alone this time. He swallowed back the panic that threatened to creep back into his mind.

_Now'd be a good time t' bust in 'n' rescue me, guys. _

He gulped when Winton tucked the gun in the waistband of his pants and got to his feet.

Glowering down at him and cursing under his breath, the gunman muttered, "No. I'm not gonna do that." He strode into the living room. Tearing one of the curtain panels off a window, he ripped the material into wide strips as he returned. "Be glad I still see some use t' keepin' ya 'live, boy."


	168. Chapter 168 Smoke Screen

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 168 Smoke Screen

Murdock struggled to breathe. Minutes before, Winton got in two solid punches to the pilot's face as punishment for trying to escape. One blow made his nose bleed; the other blackened and nearly closed his right eye. His bloodied nose and the gag in his mouth increasingly obstructed his airway. He took every breath with growing desperation.

Winton busied himself with knotting a length of torn curtain around the pilot's ankles. When he finished, he dragged Murdock further into the living room away from the front door.

_He's makin' sure I ain' goin' nowhere. Guess he learned from his mistake. Sure wish he wasn' such a quick learner. _

The armed man narrowed his eyes at the man on the floor. Murdock had to squint to read his lips to know for sure what he was saying. "If I can' get what I wan' outta ya one way, I'll get it 'nother way. Yer boss ain' gonna let ya stay here while he 'n' yer friends run 'way. I seen men like 'im 'fore. He'll be back. He'll try to find ya. 'N' I'll be waitin' when he comes through that door."

Murdock knew it was true. When he took the bullet for Hannibal, the Colonel would not leave him to be found by Decker and his men. He closed his eyes in frustration and concentrated on getting out of his situation. No matter how he looked at it, Winton had the upper hand and there was nothing he could do about it anymore.

_Had my chance 'n' he was too quick for me. _

The armed man nudged him with one foot and shouted at him. "Don' s'pose ya know where yer leader hid the stuff I want."

Murdock cracked his swollen eyelids as open as he could get them.

_Oh, opportunity! Do I hear ya knockin' 'gain on my door? _

He tried to respond with a weak nod but it was met with a mocking laugh.

"Naw. Prob'ly not, 's much as ya were in 'n' outta the hospital. Yer boss wouldn'ta shared that secret with ya." Winton stared at him for a few seconds and moved past him to the dining room. "Could be jus' 'bout anywhere on this farm." He examined the wall closely as if trying to find a hidden panel.

The pilot moaned and then flinched as the other man turned back to him. The blood bubbled in his nose with the breath he tried to draw in preparation for the next blow.

Glass shattered behind them. Murdock twisted his head to the side to figure out what had happened but he couldn't see through the smoky gas that began rapidly filling the room. Winton choked and coughed somewhere to his right.

A second window shattered. Another ferret charge dropped into the living room to skitter around the floor releasing CS gas. He recognized what the projectiles were and frantically renewed his efforts to free his wrists.

_This ain' good. This ain' good for me at all. Not breathin' the way I am right now. _

The second grenade had landed within a foot of his belly. Murdock's burning eyes involuntarily squeezed shut. Tears streamed from the corners. His hacking coughs were stifled by the gag.

Winton staggered past him on his way to the front door and the fresh air that lay beyond. The armed man stumbled out and the screen door slammed shut behind him. The pilot softly groaned his frustration.

Over the top of his own choking, Murdock faintly heard Hannibal yell, "You wanted me, Winton? Well, here I am. Unless you want to know what this little Uzi can do to a man at this distance, you'll toss that pop gun you're holding over here to me." The Colonel must have gotten the correct response from Winton. The next thing Murdock heard was the order for B. A. and Face to enter the house and look for him.

He anxiously listened for their movement. The chemical was doing what it was supposed to do, making him dizzy and disoriented.

_'Sides makin' me bawl like a baby 'n' shuttin' off my wind. _

The two grenades continued to carom around the rooms spreading their disabling gas everywhere.

His breathing was going from bad to almost impossible as his burning nose and throat filled with mucus and combined with the blood already there.

"Murdock! Where are ya, fool?" The Sergeant's voice never sounded quite so welcome to the pilot's ears as it did right then. The loud words were muffled which meant B. A. must be wearing a gas mask.

_What I wouldn' give for one o' those. _

"Find him yet, B. A.?"

_And that's Faceman. Knew ya guys wouldn' leave me. But how're ya gonna find me in all this smoke? _

He slowly drew another breath, forcing the air past the thick fluids accumulating in his nasal passages. His strangled groan didn't seem loud enough to his own ears.

His eyelids wouldn't open so he couldn't see who almost tripped over him. He heard a faint clinking of metal close to his right ear and knew it had to be the Sergeant.

"Found him, Faceman!" The black man's shout sounded like it traveled through a few feet of water to get to him. The Sergeant cradled his head and slipped a gas mask over his face. "Winton's gonna pay, man. He gonna pay for this," B. A. promised.

"Get him out of here, B. A. I'll meet you both outside." Another muffled voice but recognizable as that of Face.

In the next moment, the black man had him under the armpits and was dragging him across the floor. "I got ya, buddy."

_Did B. A. jus' call me buddy? I mus' be more confused than normal. Or hearin' things 'gain. _

He heard the screen door creak open and felt the door sill scrape his back as the Sergeant brought him out to the fresh air. A series of violent coughs wracked his thin frame. He curled up as best as he could to attempt to control them.

Someone roughly removed the gas mask from his face and the gag from his mouth. He greedily sucked in several breaths before rasping, "What took ya'll so long? Not that I'm ungrateful but a guy could die waitin'."

"Shut up, crazy man, or I'll stick this back in your mouth. You're lucky I didn' just leave ya in there."

_Same ol' angry mudsucker. God, it's good t' hear yer voice. _

Even though his eyes were too swollen to see him and he couldn't hear him very well, Murdock picked up on the relief and concern in B. A.'s voice.

For now he would let the Sergeant fuss over him. It might come in handy as a reminder some time when he was about to get pulverized. He smirked slightly and lay back, relaxing and letting his rescuer remove the belt and torn curtain strip from his wrists and ankles.

"Let me see him, B. A." Another soft voice, one he wasn't sure he would ever hear again. He swallowed painfully as he sensed room being made for her to come nearer. "He's all yours, li'l sis. I got some business ta take care of." Heavy footsteps clomped down wooden steps.

One hand cupped his face and the other stroked back his hair. Dani bent and kissed him lightly on his unburned cheek.

He tried to open his eyes but could manage only thin slits of vision. "Where's Winton?" he whispered hoarsely. Her blue eyes wandered to something happening in the farmyard before returning to gaze at him. She shook her head and sighed.

"_Nobody_ messes with my friends." The low rumbling voice was followed by a shuddering vibration that shook the veranda on which Murdock was lying. "If he don't get back his sight or hearin' all the way, I'll come an' find a way to make you sorry." There was a sound of flesh striking flesh and another shiver went through the wooden structure. Someone groaned.

"Never mind answerin', darlin'," the pilot mumbled. "Got a pretty good idea. Tell B. A. he's gotta leave 'nough o' Winton for the law t' haul off t' jail, 'kay?"

Moments later Hannibal told B. A. to escort Winton out to the barn. "We'll even let you guard the stolen goods until the police get here." Murdock thought he detected a mischievous smirking quality to the Colonel's voice as he gave the orders to tie the ex-security guard up in the loft where the stolen goods were hidden.

He brought his hands up to his eyes to wipe the tears away but Dani grasped his wrists. "Don't. You'll scratch the surface of your eyes if you rub them. We need to get you to a place where I can flush them out with water and take care of those flash burns."

The sound of feet on the veranda steps announced Face's arrival. "The Colonel says we have to get out of here as soon as possible. Do you think you're up to it?" His voice echoed a sense of urgency.

_Don' wanna leave yet but I guess I gotta. The A-Team train's headin' outta town 'n' Dani 'n' I'd better be on it. _

Murdock nodded slowly. "Colonel knows what he's doin'. He says we gotta hightail it outta here, we'd better do it." With Face on one side and Dani on the other, he got to his feet and stumbled between them down the steps and to the barn.

"Soon's the law gets here, I'm gonna tell 'em who ya are, Smith." Winton snarled his threats from the loft above.

Murdock smelled the aroma of cigar smoke. "Hann'bal?" His assistants helped him sit down in the open side door of the van.

"Go make sure everything's out of the house, Lieutenant." Hands encased in leather gloves clasped both sides of his head and Murdock squinted up into the Colonel's relieved face.

Hannibal scrutinized the gunpowder burns on the left side of the pilot's face and his swollen right eye and bloody nose. "Looks like he roughed you up pretty good."

"Gun went off near my head. Hearin's startin' t' come back in my right ear; left ear's bein' a li'l stubborn. Dani won' let me use my eyes much 'til she takes care o' 'em." Murdock gave the older man a faint smile.

"I guess we'd better get on the road then, Captain, and get you two someplace where she can do that. Before the cops come here to take the trash and the treasure out of the loft up there." Hannibal clapped the pilot on the shoulder and called to B. A. "You almost ready, Sergeant?"

"The package's all tied up. All it's missin' is the bow for the top. I'm comin' down."

_Hey, that's somethin' I'd say! Maybe some o' my blood's givin' the mudsucker a sense o' humor. _

Cyndy and Face returned from the direction of the house. The Lieutenant handed Dani her bag and patted Murdock on the knee. "Guess you're going to be glad to get out of here and get back to life as normal." Without waiting for an answer, he smiled and escorted Cyndy to the white and red sports car.

_Am I? _

The Colonel climbed into the front passenger seat of the van and glanced at the couple in the back. Dani had helped Murdock into his seat and knelt on the floor beside him. A thoughtful look was on his face as B. A. started the van engine and Face did likewise with the Corvette.

"Anything wrong?" Hannibal kept his gaze on the pilot's face as the younger man scowled at nothing in particular. Even from his vantage point in the front seat, the Colonel could see the tension in Murdock's expression.

"It's jus' I don' get any las' looks 'round. I mean, I said my goodbyes t' Ma, my Gramma 'n' Grampa, Billy . . . I guess even t' my Pa but it'd be nice t' have a memory snapshot tucked 'way in my head o' this place." The pilot took a deep breath and let it out slowly through his mouth. Then he shot a lopsided grin in the direction of the front seat. "Guess Gramma was right."

"How's that, Captain?" Hannibal frowned. They couldn't wait around for Murdock's eyesight to get better. If the authorities listened to Winton and decided to start searching the area for them, they wouldn't be all that difficult to find if they stayed.

"Gramma always said the best pictures o' home are the ones ya carry in yer heart. They las' longer 'n' they never get ugly. Never understood that 'til now." The pilot swallowed and Hannibal knew it wasn't because his throat was dry.

"Someday you'll come back." The Colonel thought about Detroit and wondered if the old Smith home was still standing after all these years since his last visit.

"Yeah, s'pose so. Someday." Murdock carefully laid his head back on the head rest and absently stroked Dani's hair as he lapsed into meditative silence.


	169. Chapter 169 Feelin' Sorry

Death Waits In the Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

Chapter 169 Feelin' Sorry

He sat back in the van seat with nothing to do but think while the guys were discussing what they were going to do next. The conversation flowed around him but none of them asked him for his input. That made him feel detached, like his blindness and partial deafness erected a brick wall between him and the others.

Overhearing the plans being made among B. A., Hannibal and Face, Murdock knew that they were taking the Old Sour Lake and Beaumont Roads to get to Cyndy's apartment in the city. If they took the backroads, they wouldn't encounter any of the authorities coming to investigate at the farm.

Once at the apartment, Dani could wash out his eyes from the combined effects of the gunpowder burns and CS gas.

_If nothin' else, it'll make 'em feel better. _

He remembered the last time he received gunpowder burns to the face. No one seemed to wonder then if his sight or hearing would ever be restored to what it was before he tried to disarm the airline hijacker.

_They must b'lieve I'm indestructible. But I'm not. _

None of them were. A single bullet, a big explosion, being in the wrong place at the wrong moment, could take any one of them out at any time. This trip back home reminded him of that in a big time way.

The jolt from every bump that B. A. hit on the road was magnified ten times now that he couldn't see from either eye very well.

Dani murmured words which were intended to soothe him. He couldn't hear them well enough to know exactly what she said. Conversation was difficult when he had only half of his hearing and that half was barely functional. At one point during the thirty minute trip, he pretended to fall asleep just to make every one of them leave him alone.

_No use tryin' t' talk when I can' hear 'em 'r read their lips. _

Memories of the last sight of his Pa when he was no longer in pain, when they could no longer communicate, assaulted his mind afresh. The mounded grave in the clearing, Billy's carved stone, Rosedale Cemetery and the stones marking his people's final resting places . . .

The lump in his throat was no longer just an after effect of the CS gas. Too much had happened in the past weeks and he knew he would be struggling to make sense of it all for weeks to come.

Until he heard the driver's rumbling voice, he barely realized they had stopped.

"Ya need help gettin' him inside, Hannibal?" B. A. asked.

Murdock wanted to shout, "I'm not a cripple, ya know." Then he silently took it back.

_If all I'm left with is half my hearin' 'n' only one eye, I might 's well say I am. _

His thoughts wandered to his place on the team and he fought the despair in his guts.

_If I can' fly, ain' no use t' bustin' me outta the V. A. no more. Will they still 'member me then? _

The side door opened and he smelled the scent of cigars before Hannibal touched his elbow. "Let's get you inside, Captain."

As the pilot slid from the seat and let the Colonel help him down to the sidewalk, he heard him add, "B. A., park the van where Miss Berquon tells you. We'll leave as soon as we're able."

With Hannibal on one side and Dani on the other, he made it into the apartment tripping twice. Both times he rasped, "Sorry" when he felt them grip him around the waist to keep him from falling.

"Take him into the bathroom and have him sit on the floor in front of the tub." That was Dani giving orders. He couldn't help but smile faintly at what he could hear of her voice.

_That's my take-charge angel. She'll get 'em movin'. _

Face was beside him now. He could tell from the very expensive cologne he detected. Sandwiched between that fragrance and the smell of the cigars Hannibal was always smoking, Murdock kept walking where they directed him.

Behind them, he heard Dani give Cyndy a verbal list of things she would need. "I'll need a glass or something to pour water from, a soft washcloth, a bar of Dial soap, antibiotic ointment if you have it. After I get him cleaned up, he's going to need an ice pack for that black eye and some aspirin or ibuprofen to take down the inflammation."

Face left his side as Hannibal and he passed through a narrow doorway.

"If you need me, I'll be saying my goodbyes to Cyndy."

Murdock wondered if the goodbye would be permanent once they managed to get back to L. A. He didn't want to see Cyndy holding out any candle in the dark waiting for Face like she had waited for him for almost twenty years.

_But she will. I know she will. She's that type o' gal. _

Hannibal gave the Lieutenant a small grunt of acknowledgment. "Here, Murdock. If you reach down to your right, you'll feel the bathtub. Careful now." The Colonel guided his hand to the cool porcelain surface and assisted him as he squatted down and then sat with his back to the tub.

Sticking his legs straight out, he felt his feet connect with the bathroom wall on the opposite side. He began a nervous tapping with one tennis shoe and knew from the sound to his right that Hannibal perched on the bathtub edge beside him.

He reached up to touch his nose and winced when the hand in front of his own face registered as only a shadow.

"It doesn't look broken," the Colonel reassured him.

_That ain' what I'm worried 'bout. _

A quick rap on the door alerted him to Dani's presence before he sensed her kneeling next to him. "How're you doing, hon?"

He shrugged. "Peachy keen, I guess." He attempted a smile.

_Ain' her fault this happened. But how'm I s'posed t' be feelin'? _

He felt her lean in and reach around him. He smelled vanilla, her favorite scent. Water splashed from the tap.

"I'm going to have you lean back and move your head so the left side of your face is tilted toward the tub."

He did as she instructed and hoped whatever she was able to do would work magic on the eye.

_Please, God. I don' wanna be half blind. _

She held the upper and lower eyelids of his left eye apart and poured lukewarm water across the eyeball from a glass. He tried blinking the left eye as she filled the glass from the tap again. The Colonel impatiently shifted positions. Without having to look, he sensed a change in the mood in the small bathroom.

"What the hell did you think you were doing back there at the farm, Miss Scalatini?" Hannibal was angry. Murdock could tell that much from his tone. Dani did something he didn't want her to do and it was likely something he himself would not want her doing either. The Colonel expected him to back up whatever he said.

"Why? What'd she do, Hann'bal?" The pilot squirmed to face the Colonel.

"Hold still, H. M.!" A blurry image of Dani frowned a warning at Hannibal. Murdock rejoiced over the restoration of even limited sight in that eye. The momentary triumph was stifled when he recognized the tension between them. "It distracted Winton, didn't it? Besides, I made sure he didn't try to make a run for it."

"What're the two o' ya talkin' 'bout? What'd ya do, darlin'?" He pushed her hand away from his face and sat up straight. Firmly gripping both of her wrists, he pulled her toward him. "Why's Hann'bal mad at ya?"

"I don't like it when one of my orders are disobeyed. I gave that order to you for your _and_ Miss Berquon's safety. If there is _ever_ another situation where you _happen_ to be with us and I tell you to get out of there, I expect you to _follow orders_."

_He's really pissed at 'er. _

"Dani?" He squinted at her and noticed with a twinge of mingled amusement and worry the rebellious raised-eyebrow look she was casting at Hannibal.

_I know that look. She might say she's gonna follow orders from now on, but her fingers're crossed behin' 'er back. _

"Is that understood, Miss Scalatini?" As he peered at the Colonel, he saw the icy blue eyes flicker toward him and then back at the woman he loved.

He let out a frustrated sigh. "'Kay, guys. I'm outta here if ya wanna have a li'l private conversation 'n' not let me in on what it's 'bout." He released Dani's wrists and began to move.

"I stole Winton's stolen truck when he wasn't looking. It's nothing. It's over and done," she quickly muttered. She brushed off the conversation by giving Hannibal one more pointed frown.

"You . . . what? When?" He wasn't sure he wanted her to explain.

_Maybe it's better I don' know. _

The Colonel reached out with his left hand and pushed him back down onto the tiled floor. From what he was able to see of Hannibal's expression, he knew he was not going to say any more about it. Dani confessed and Hannibal was going to leave it up to him to figure it out and keep her from repeating the mistake ever again.

"Like she said, it's over and done. Let's get finished here and back on the road. It's a long way to California."

Murdock wondered if he would ever hear the details of what they were talking about. Right then, it didn't matter. As Dani continued to flush his eyes with water, then wash and apply ointment to his burns, he relaxed in her care and thought about the future.

His eyesight seemed to be coming back and his hearing was certain to follow. He was returning to L. A. and the routine of the V. A. hospital.

He hoped the ghosts of his past weren't going to accompany him there but somehow he knew they would.

But with Dani right beside him maybe he could send them packing again.

Even as he thought that, B. A. stood at the bathroom door, his hands making fists as he spoke. "We're outta time, Hannibal. Picked up an all points bulletin over the scanner. Winton talked. I'll get the guns out case we need them."

"Let's get you out to the van, Captain. Looks like we'll have a police escort out of this area yet." The Colonel's eyes twinkled with amused excitement as he helped Murdock to his feet. "Can you see well enough to toss a few smoke bombs out of the van window?"

The pilot grabbed Dani by the arm and smiled back at the older man. "If that's what ya need me t' do, jus' let me at 'em, Hannibal."

The Colonel clapped him on the back and smiled. As they hurried past Face and Cyndy on the living room couch, Hannibal paused.

"Hate to bother you, Lieutenant, but unless you want to say hello to Colonel Decker for the rest of us, you'd better say goodbye quickly. I'll be waiting in the Corvette, driving it if you don't hurry."

Murdock smirked at Face as he ushered Dani toward the door. "Never 'nough time, is there?"

"Glad I got to meet you. Send us a letter and let us know what happens. Maybe you can come out to L. A. for Christmas," Dani called back over her shoulder.

"Say goodbye, darlin'," Murdock murmured before pushing her ahead of him out the door.

"Coming, Lieutenant?" Hannibal snapped.

With a mixture of annoyance, alarm and regret, Face kissed Cyndy long and hard and sprinted out the door ahead of the Colonel.

"Miss Berquon? It's been a pleasure. Thanks for the Texas hospitality." Then Hannibal left, too. Moments later, Cyndy heard tires screeching and sirens wailing, gradually fading into the distance.


End file.
